Sunday Social

He squinted against the bright sun not quite able to tell if it was her. He could only see her shape shrouded in the billowy grey smoke. He lost the conversation about sports or whatever, focusing as the breeze shifted, clearing his view; it was her. Smiling, letting his imagination soar, he enjoyed the pastel sundress that clung to her perfect teasing hips. Suddenly the nearness of his wife’s voice grounded him instantly and his overly firm grip on the hotdog he held rewarded him by covering his shirt in mustard. The girl in the sundress smiled knowingly.

Fuzzy, Bright, Colored, Firm, Breeze

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