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Sunshine and Shoulders

One morning I felt like singing that John Denver song, about sunshine and shoulders.

It was the first warm day after a long winter that everyone described as “brutal.”

I went to work and hurried through my deliveries, finishing the route two hours early. So I strolled downtown with a joint cupped in my hand. No hat. No coat. Not even a jacket.

It felt like the birds were singing just for me. The gutters dripped and the wind carried a rich smell from the Mississippi. Kids kicked ice chunks down the alley.

Soon I was on my barstool.

“Nice out, isn’t it?” the stranger next to me said.

“Yeah, and what better way to enjoy it, eh?” I said lifting my beer.

He paused. Then laughed.

We befriended each other and drank ’til sundown.

Categorized as: Fiction

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