59
He hasn’t called. I guess I didn’t really expect him to. I mean, if you look at it, I’ve always been the one chasing him—calling him, going over to his house, kissing him. That’s a first for me.
Probably a last, too, considering how it’s turned out.
But at least I said what I wanted to say. If he chose not to hear it, I can’t really do anything about that.
So it’s Sunday, and Pinedale won the quarter-finals last night, of course. Which means the town is pretty much shut down today for the barbecues, the bonfires, the beer fests, the drunken vandalism, the drunken everything. Fun, fun, fun as long as no one actually sets themselves on fire. It’ll get even worse over the next two weekends if they win the semis and then the finals. But at least there’ll be a parade.
I had to break it
