Next to a metal table a thin man sat hunched over, one elbow resting on his right knee, a cigarette curled between his fingers. His free hand combed back thinning hair, stopping at the tan line above the gray collar of his work shirt. Grinning, he shook his head and let out a nasal chuckle as ol' Jack pushed an ice cube across the linoleum floor with his large black muzzle.
 He reached down and pulled out a Stag beer from the case next to the refrigerator. Popping it open with a rust-mottled bottle opener, he let the top fall to the table with a klink and took a deep swallow. Sweat glistened on his wind-etched brow. Blue eyes watched the dog, still nosing the elusive ice cube which now refused to leave its position in a corner. He laughed, clicking his teeth as they released from his gums. The embers on the end of his cigarette glowed orange-red as he drew in. A moment later he exhaled smoke slowly through his nose and rested his chin on his hand. The ice cube had melted by now and ol' Jack was licking the wetness from the baseboard. The embers glowed again. Flicking the white-gray ash onto a saucer, his chest heaved with a heavy cough that racked through his body in remnant tremors. Unable to clear his lungs, he heaved again, holding the table for support and carefully balancing his cigarette in the air. With a couple of shallow breaths, he relaxed and turned his attention back to the dog, who was still licking the baseboard. Wiping his wet eyes, he grinned, let out a nasal chuckle, and threw another ice cube onto the linoleum floor. � 1998 Barbara Seaton |
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