That Old Feeling

Bernie continued hacking as Marge made her way slowly to the counter, her stooped back only letting her go so fast. Still far from the counter, she asked loudly, “Excuse me,” letting her voice reach the man before she did, “young man, can my husband have a glass of water?”

The boy glanced at the clock briefly, then said, “We don’t have any water. There’s a convenience store across the street.” He went back to his phone, emitting a sudden high-pitched laugh at something on his screen.

“Oh. Oh, I see.” she said, finally reaching the counter. Bernie’s coughing jag tapered off.

“It’s okay Sweetie. I’m okay now,” Bernie confirmed, slowly finding his way to join them at the counter. “What’s so funny, my boy?” he glanced at the clerk’s phone.

The clerk looked at them, annoyed by the intrusion of his privacy. “What? Oh, nothing. Just a funny post on my wall.”

Marge looked confused. Bernie just looked around the small shop, “It’s changed a lot. How long have your parents owned this little thrift shop?”





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)