Pool_2

>> Evening Thoughts <<

Mina was at the kitchen table making a poster for some sort of nurses function to be held at work. Marcus hit the sack early that evening, not to sleep, but to reflect. He was outside the covers still fully clothed, except for his shoes, with a pillow under his ankles. The house was still, so he could barely hear Mina humming as far away as he was. Random creaking noises from the air ducts created depth to the perspective of hush. When were things ever truly silent? His lids slid slowly down. An old face was once again staring at him through them. Shrouded in the black of dream, that grizzled stare was fully on him. He had seen it so many times, so many nights. An aura of Italian baked goods hinted itself in the mental froth. He saw the aspect of his sister with her worrying eyes darting between him and that old man in the shadows. What is it, Sis? What are you trying to tell me? So many times Sissy would give him deep and mysterious life's lessons as he lay on the rug, a mere child with his head on her lap. Stroking his hair she lifted him into the ethereal space of her artistic mind. "Why is grass green, Sissy?" That question had an expected response. "Because it GOBBLES GOBBLES GOBBLES the red," she was attacking his tickle ribs with the gobbley part. If he mentioned bombs to Sissy, she wouldn't tickle him but just get quiet and leave. That was for Chucky. "Sis?" "Yeah?" "Nino gave me a whipped cream shooter. I'm gonna shoot Chucky on the butt." "I don't know about that," she was making crazy eyes, "Chucky might just swallow