A Tire Swing Story is a bite-sized "imagining" inspired by an object I discover while wandering. It could be a curbside trash gem or a message sprayed on a wall. A lost mitten, or an antique store find. Anything goes. I photograph the object and post them together, the story and its inspiration. There will be a new story every Monday and Wednesday. On Fridays, I'll discuss writing, life, love, and coffee. (In no particular order and maybe all at once.)

Friday, November 25, 2011

3  9  17  26  32  43

Whenever she takes an apple from the bowl, she peels off the sticker and attaches it to me. As the days pass, she's slowly covering me up.

First it was just the words on my front: Lotto 649, and then the barcode on my bottom. But now it's my numbers. 3 (covered), 9 (covered).

Tomorrow will be 17
then 26
next 32
and finally 43.

Her husband doesn't eat many apples. When he ventures near the fruit bowl, it's to sit on a nearby stool and discuss their troubles. Their troubles are mostly his troubles. "He's lost his sense of direction," he tells her, "and he feels like the best years of his life are spent. He wants to take a trip, get a new job. A haircut. Sometimes he thinks about being with other women." 

She plucks up an apple and takes a bite. Another sticker covers me while her husband's words fill up the kitchen. 

If I had words of my own, I would whisper something into her ear.

I'm a winning ticket.

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