Annie sat at the kitchen table, her legs, feet and lower back feeling the weight of sixty-nine years. The noon news program burbling from the small radio in the corner mostly ignored, but without it, the silence of the empty apartment made her ears ring. Her attention wandered before tuning into the broadcaster’s words. “Apollo 11…moon landing.” The moon—why would anyone go to the moon? Waste of money. Muttering aloud, “If not the moon, all they talk about is Chappaqua, or wherever it happened. Mary Jo Kopeck…nik. Why can’t they leave the poor man alone? It was an accident.” She got up from the table where so far she’d failed to focus on paying the month’s bills and shuffled to the stove to light the gas under the kettle.
The moon—why would anyone go to the moon? Waste of money.At this ho
