Word Count: 316<\/p>\n

The man on the other side of the trees is building something I know. There\u2019s the clank-clank<\/em> of the ladder, the humming buzz<\/em> of the saw. I smell wood freshly cut.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s hot in these last days of summer. He\u2019s working shirtless, I\u2019m sure. His skin must be  brown from the sun, shiny with sweat. The lumber is heavy, his muscles must strain with the weight. Perspiration clings to the curled hair of his chest, where it grows landscaped as a V down into his jeans. He\u2019s been laid-off. His wife is at work. And I\u2019m doing my best to sort socks.<\/p>\n

I add ice to my last morning coffee. The cup beads up with the chill. I stroke the sides gently, drawing pictures in the condensation with my finger. I take a deep sip of the coffee and lick the rim of the cup.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve finished the laundry, re-pair the socks I\u2019ve somehow mismatched as I put them away in his drawer. My husband is working at a desk somewhere in the city. He\u2019s glassy-eyed from staring at numbers flashed on a monitor screen. He\u2019s most likely into his third cup of coffee, hot though, steaming hot fresh from the pot in the small cafeteria on the first floor of his office. Where he\u2019ll eat lunch. Probably a ham on rye sandwich.<\/p>\n

My lunch is a large special salad. With hard boiled eggs cut in. A young thinly sliced cucumber and a mandarin orange pulled into segments, crisp crunchy lettuce and kale. Those cherry tomatoes that pop in my mouth with the slightest pressure of my tongue. And creamy, creamy Caesar dressing, that\u2019s what I like on the top. I take it outside and sit on the deck at the table. In the backyard. I can\u2019t see through the trees but Rod Stewart\u2019s singing his heart out somewhere behind them. That, and the buzz<\/em> of the saw.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Word Count: 316 The man on the other side of the trees is building something I know. There\u2019s the clank-clank of the ladder, the humming buzz of the saw. I smell wood freshly cut. It\u2019s hot in these last days … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[9],"tags":[22],"class_list":["post-539","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-psychological-realism","tag-psychological-realism"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/539","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=539"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/539\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1627,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/539\/revisions\/1627"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=539"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=539"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=539"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}