Lovely*

Old Max walked on, lone footsteps, drenched in sweat, passing the general store and Doc Ryder’s place, where the two lion heads were closer to the curb than they should be, and the corner's perfect ninety degree angle rejected the roots of the American Sycamore. The low branches didn’t hamper his step; it was the sound of the music from the open window

interspersed with the moans of two lovers that caused him to pause. No light illuminated from the second story window and he was sure had light been present, he would have slipped behind the massive tree and gazed upward, already feeling the desire of a time long gone.

His heart and his breathing were so thick and heavy there was no way to ignore the skin covering his abdomen as it pressed tightly against his ribs, but he pressed on. Dragging his trodden feet against the uneven granite pavers, geological images deliberated many years ago at university came to him like a returning dove. The untimely death of his father and the downward spiral that followed, halted his aspiration for education, but even though his studies were lacking in practicality, they left him with a perception and understanding of things previously ignored.

His pulse quickened upon his arrival at the side entrance of the Saint John’s Episcopal church as he peered through the basement window. The bright lights were companionable with the spirit of the youth as they spun and dipped to the beat of the music he didn’t understand. He was vaguely familiar with the expression of the boys he observed as they brushed close to the skin of the virgin young ladies dancing gleefully without hesitation. The last song came all too soon while he tried hard not to feel desire for the young neighbor he had promised to deliver home safely. Old man Stewart's diagnoses of polio made it impossible for him to make the journey to pick up his eldest daughter. Old Max helped when he could and said to his neighbor, “It would be no trouble at all. No trouble at all.”

She was lovely.

*(Edited Repost)