Sunday, October 1, 2017

January 23, 2020
Indian Summer
The winter of 2020 had been brutal. A shift in the polar vortex had brought frigid Artic air south where it set up a lounge chair, parking itself over the Mid-Atlantic States and the Midwest. The reality of my resignation was setting in. The opioid epidemic raged on.

I walked into Ms. Rella’s office to get my mail, shivering and shaking snow from my hair. “This sucks,” I said to Ms. Rella.

 Cindy knew I meant more than the weather, but she said, “It’s Indian summer.”

“Indian summer happens in the fall. Have you been huffing markers?”

She smiled. “In India it’s summer, but India seems a million miles away and it feels like summer will never come back from there.  But it will. It always does.”

Today I will remember summer comes back.

2020 Vision ©2017 by Ken Montrose

2020 Vision is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

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