38. Nothing to Say
That night I went to the gym. The man on the stationary bike to my left silently pedaled his bike. I did the same. I could hear the gentleman to my right telling the woman next to him about his trip to a local golf course to collect golf balls. In painful detail he described where he found them, how he retrieved them, how he washed them in bleach, and the sage advice he gave his buddies on finding more golf balls. Apparently the woman knew the man and asked about his son. The man said the son was doing fine and had been part of the great golf ball roundup. He of course had found more balls than his son.
The more I listened, the more convinced I became the great golf ball collector knew he had nothing to say, but couldn’t stand saying nothing.
Today if I have nothing to say, I’ll say nothing.
Needles Not For Knitting is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.
Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose
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