006

   Roger ran blindly through the blustering storm. Newspapers, flower petals, posters, hats, and every sort of airborne flotsam swirled and flew past his head as he ran, squinting to see through the torrent. It is said that the odds of a hurricane striking on a given person's birthday are astronomical, and of this Roger had no doubt. In his life things had always had a way of surprising him. But he would have it no other way. He loved the suspense. However, there were certain events (such as this latest development) that in his heart were never relished or welcomed.
   Halfway down Ruxton Avenue he passed the old grocery store where he had met his late wife, so many years ago. She was a pretty little thing then, dressed sensibly but fashionably no matter where she went or when, and just as petite as a china doll. Once on a fishing trip to Lake Francese, he had a wonderful laugh when he saw how much their little rowboat listed toward the sight he sat on, and he suggested that she ought to gain some weight to balance out the little vessel. Little did he know to what extent she would eventually take his advice.