all things return to a saturday off.

one day in a puddle.

a craftsman home.

a couple, slowly walking through a yard sale, picking up items,
setting them back.

two cars, perpetually rounding the block in search of parking.

a toddler running, juice in hand, eyes crazed, toward the street.

two days off, three.

a bean-counter, white beans, black beans, pinto.

half-a-sandwich long walk to the bar. you must stand outside, chewing, before you can enter.

there would be umbrellas in any other city.

a patio with metal chairs.

a pork chop.