Squirrel!
My wife and I were driving around, dropping off books at Little Libraries. So far, we’d dropped off twenty-five books at five Little Libraries. Only one stop remained.
I turned off East Main. It was sunny but rain was falling on the windshield.
“Squirrel!” my wife shouted.
I’d seen the squirrel bolting into the street and was braking before my wife said anything.
The squirrel and I both stopped. They turned and ran back to the sidewalk but stayed there.
I edged the car forward.
The squirrel edged forward.
I increased my speed.
So did the squirrel.
“Damn, dude, what are you doing?” I asked the squirrel through the window.
It turned right.
I accelerated away.
The Writing on the Page
I keep spying on the woman to my right.
Sounds quasi pervi, doesn’t it?
I just want to see her book, a small paperback. She flips through it, pen in hand, underlining passages.
I’m horrified and fascinated. Writing in books? I know others do this and it’s permitted under certain circumstances, but it’s something against my personal coda. Unless…is it a puzzle book?
What is this book she’s defiling? If only she’d put it down so that I can see it.
She left while I was busy writing. I never saw the book.
It’s another unsolved mystery.
One-Liner Wednesday: Decisions
My decision to decide later crumpled against a more urgent decision to get up and eat, which led me to a pause in front of the bathroom mirror where I decided, not today, and maybe not tomorrow.
The Encounter
Midnight.
I turn on the master bath lights and see a large spider in one of the porcelain sinks.
Finding a tube of cosmetics, I tried to give them a lift up and out.
The spider raced around in a slipping, sliding frenzy to escape the tube. “I’m trying to help you,” I reassured it.
Withdrawing, I found a small cloth and shaped a ramp in the sink. Recognizing the opening, the spider used it to climb up and out. Then it disappeared without even a backward glance or wave.
I wonder what she’ll tell others about her encounter with a human.
Michael Seidel, writer 