From my collection of ‘Snap-shot Stories’

IshaiyaFreshlySqueezed

Winter trees 2

I sat on a park bench and watched a pigeon peck the ground at my feet. The sky was a heavy white. The branches of the trees were bare, save for the evergreens that pinched the air with their resinous aroma.

I sat with my hands in my lap, fingers interlaced; the cold crisp air numbing the tips. I had left my gloves on the coffee table.

There was a woman a short distance away in a red woollen coat walking a small dog. My own grey overcoat was thick and warm, although I had left the top button open, something that as a small child my mother had insisted I shouldn’t do. Mother used to wear a red overcoat, especially when visiting aunt Mazie; though she disliked dogs with a  passion – smelly, noisy creatures – she used to say – Rather like small children – my father would…

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