They had long blonde hair parted in the middle, their bright combs poking out of their cutoffs. They had muscle shirts and puka beads, they had shaved legs and baby oil for the sun. When there were two of them, I let them fix it so the taillights worked, then I thanked them and left. Nothing heavy, I bet. They saw me from across the lot, putting away their blankets, their wet towels around their waists.
Suits still wet and smelling of the lake.
They walked out into the shallows and stood there sipping beers. The garbage was full of cans, every one of them worth a nickel. I almost wanted to stop and fill a bag. Century is published quarterly by Century Publishing. Jenna A. Felice, Associate Editor.