The Little Things

I got a break from sorting sordid clothes to help a lady move a just-bought mattress to her “just around the corner” house. Ricky and I entered his stripped red truck and he asked if he could smoke. I said sure and soon tobacco smoke filled the car, smooth as the Soul coming from the radio. At the house, the moving went fast. Upstairs to the right. Ricky walking forwards and me backwards. Ricky stopping to cough a couple times. Going back he said, “Not too bad?” and I smiled.


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