Before the Flood:
A delivery of fencing arrived in my neighbor’s yard. The sky low and yellow as a corn-fed chicken breast. I approached the wall that separated our properties, and asked did he really think fences would keep out water? He sticks his chin in the direction of his house and says if I want answers I should talk to his wife, a gal I’ve seen around town a bit; her eyes shimmer blue when they peek out from under funky long lashes.
Last week I was behind her at CVS when she plunked an air purifier on the counter and said it was a present for her man. She told the cashier he’d been sneezing nonstop.
What did he do to deserve her?
She turned and smiled like she recognized me but wasn’t sure where from.
Was I crazy to think you can’t stop water with a fence?
To get over there, I’d have to walk along the sidewalk, and the wind was already sweeping through, ahead of the storm. I turned to go back inside, but then she was at their door, fluttering lashes and a cup of something steaming in her hand. If I asked, I knew she’d have a kind answer, though probably inaccurate. Neighbor says, kind of gruff, “I gotta get this done,” and leans down to slice through the plastic tape holding the boards together.
I nod and go back to my own house, start moving electrical appliances to the second floor.
Sara Fraser has published two novels, Long Division and Just River. Both are available wherever books are sold online. She splits her time between Spain and Boston.
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