Story Shot 1, by Brian R. Wright PDF Version, 21 October 2020
Brief handoff with the ex today, following my monthly chiro adjustment—now that’s a story for later, especially now hip deep in the season of covtardia, with all the rotundo, snippy, old Karens watching and snitching on everyone, esp. businesses not taking masks and the other bizarro rules seriously—, Floei’s sweet, on time, lives a few miles away in same burb as the chiro, that would be Troy, Michigan. I’m giving her a flower pot, she’s got a bag for her sister up in Okemos whom I visit more often than she does.
We mostly have the kind of post partum where we try to help each other.
My idea: we decide to meet in the lot of the still-Unitarian-but-heading-toward-a-terminally-upper-middle-class-suburban-white-guilt-denouement (a Black Lives Matter service on the marquis) big ol’ barn style church where my brother was married… RIP, at a too-young 57. The betrothing ceremony would have been back in, what, the early 1980s? Continue reading