Page 33 - November 2021 Issue.indd

that she already knew this person and envisioned them cross- Colt had been standing on the steps outside the Sudlersville

ing paths again in an improbable and idyllic reunion in Paris post office for some time. Off the top of his head he could not

or at least New Orleans. remember the location of his next destination. He got back in
his car and starting driving south regardless, entertaining the
Colt smacked a mosquito from the back of his neck and
remote possibility of ever seeing an armadillo this far north.
returned to reality.
Colt realized hours later he had neglected to take a picture of

The Nissan was gone and he knew he would never see it or its the Jimmie Foxx statue standing in the middle of town.
driver again. Still, the thought of that would-be conversation
preoccupied Colt. He considered ways of initiating the dialogue
between them, of how he might entice her to drinks and dinner
to unravel her angst and navigate her past. Of how he could
explain his own worldview and spin his accomplishments and Goldsboro Vol. Fire Co.
travels and philosophy in a way that made him sound alluring. 700 Old Line Road, Goldsboro, MD
Enigmatic. Artsy. Would she even respond if he were to ask her
what the bumper sticker meant? Colt contemplated where they
would go: Rock Hall? Oxford? Suicide Bridge? Denton? No,
definitely not Denton. He did want to impress her a little, aft er Annual

all. He had seen her for maybe fi fteen seconds but resigned
himself to the fact that she was the type of woman to smile,
say nothing, and head off into the twilight fashioning herself a Craft

protagonist in some sophisticated unfi lmed movie.
All Colt wanted was a straightforward answer. Not much more
than light-hearted small talk with another stranger in a summer Show
resort town waiting to be seated for dinner. He wasn’t a fl irt.
He just wanted to know. It was an innocent pointed question
at best. Sure, the conversation might segue into other topics as
they discovered mutual interests: pets, concerts, annoyances, SAT., NOV. 27 • 9 AM-3 PM
whatever…

What was in the letter she mailed? She had a cellphone in her 3 rooms LOTS OF
other hand the entire time she was in the parking lot. Clearly of crafts VENDORS
it was a binding legal document that could not be emailed or
reversed. Something that required a signature. Notarization, Contact:
even. Was it having to drive to the post office that had agitated Food available 410-924-6230.

her or the contents of the envelope? Colt wondered if he had
imagined her mindset. She could have been a content mother
of three sending away a collection of UPC symbols so that her

middle child could claim an offer from the back of a cereal
box and this was just one more stop of many today. Th ere was
something to be said for the unheralded everyday milestones
of family life, Colt thought to himself, as he briefl y evaluated Commercial
the importance of his travels.
or Residential
Was the car even hers? Possibly she was a hardened criminal
escaping from the jail in Church Hill, dropping off a rambling Call me for all

and threatening note to the public defender who had bumbled your Real Estate
his way through her case. She was reminding him that she is needs.
the type of person that walks away from explosions without
looking back; she would surely avenge her death before she 410-924-4807
died. Where would she go next? No matter which direction
she went she was destined to be detected on the grid – there
were EZ-Pass sensors scanning license plates on every bridge
connected to the peninsula. If she drove straight east she would
reach the ocean in an hour or two. Colt considered the precise BENSON & MANGOLD
details of her getaway plan or lack thereof; he remarked silently 110 Market Street
it was either coincidence or irony defined as she saw crimson Mike Shipley Denton, MD 21629

410-479-0777
in the car she had chosen to steal. mshipley55@comcast.net
33