He sits alone at the bar in passive anticipation. Every once in awhile the door rings out a single ding! and he turns his head just slightly, mildly gazing in the direction of the late afternoon light filtering in from behind the painted letters of the glass.
“Yeah, today feels like a 2 milkshake day.”
The thick chocolate oozes up the straw and brings a smile to his face. Nothing beats a chocolate milkshake, he thinks.
His eyes find the door and in she walks. Short skirt, hair in curls. Just as he’ll always remember her. He blinks, capturing her image in his mind forever as she taps her way across the floor. Click-clack, click-clack, pause.
“Whatcha got there?” Her mouth bunches up on one side of her face, smirking.
She pops herself on the stool and shakes her head, sending her curls flying.
Fingerprints linger on the outside of the frosty glass and the corners of her mouth turn up into a huge grin. Like father, like daughter.
“Glad you made it, squirt.”
They sit side by side one the stools sucking down milkshakes. Cold, sweet dreams, until the sun fades towards the horizon and the little jukebox starts to hum sad and slow.
|Ed Freeman Photograph|
|Ed Freeman Photograph - Love this collection!|