What I remember that day: Riding in his Ford pick-up with the heat blasting. My Girl playing on the radio. An egress into a cattle lease—not really a road, but two tire-tracks of compressed grass—the feeling of anticipation as we neared an ice-cube pond, parking on a slope near the marsh.
Him shifting to neutral and stamping down the parking brake, the engine still running. Be My Baby playing with intermittent bursts of static as his fingers tweaked the tuner to hone the station. Us laughing at grackles sharing an ice-bath with ducks. Our hands intertwined and a first kiss.
By Lisa H. Owens
Just 100 Words
100 Word Stories - February 2021 Photo Prompt
Keep it simple, Stupid!
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