This is a short story, in 1190 words.
It was prompted by the above photo. sent to me by Elizabeth Slaughter.
They always told me it was awful hot that summer. I was too young to remember, but then summers always stay in my memory as being hot during my childhood. Grandma would show me the photo when I was old enough, her eyes watery. Whether from her age, or if they were tears, I never liked to ask. I said that Grandpa didn’t look hot, smart as he was in his suit and tie. She would wipe her eyes with a little embroidered handkerchief and shake her head. “Oh, you can bet he was hot enough. Folks didn’t show it in those days. He might have taken off his hat to fan his face on occasion, but otherwise, nobody mentioned being uncomfortable. Just wasn’t done. But I washed…
View original post 1,034 more words