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100 Words on Love, by William Dameron
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There’s only one cab in this tiny town in Maine and on a cold, dark night when the train pulls into the station late, “Sorry, he’s left for the airport in Portland, honey.” It’s a long walk on the shoulder of the road, with the keys jingling in my pocket and the car two miles away in the garage. As my iPhone battery falters and the flashlight dims, Paul pulls up on the scooter with an extra hat in hand and a grin as bright as the moon. How I love my stupid little life.
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Photo courtesy of the author.
