The End of Summer

3210 E Washington St. NY 9:00pm 1953 Ding Ding Ding The church bells sang off the hour Ding Ding Ding Ding Ding Ding 9o’clock Mr. Thomas was late. Late for the writing of his own will. “How can a man forget to be at his own home to write his very will” Mr. Lang thought to himself as he stood in the rain, cold and wet. Mr. Lang was a very boring man. The same old boring beige suit, the same brown dress shoes, the same brown leather briefcase, and the same ugly middle-part. Always the same, always boring. Creek...the door opens. A beautiful young maid stands before him gorgeous brown hair pulled into a bun. Long legs addressed by a short black skirt. Oh and her shirt....snap out of it Mr. Lang reminds himself as he shakes his head. “Mr. Lang front the bank, I’m here for the writing of Mr. Harry J. Thomas’ will.” says Mr. Lang. “Oh course, Right this way Mr. Lang” she replies in a chirpy voice and leads him down the hall up two flights of stairs and into a small room with a desk, a sofa, and a fireplace. Lang steps in and sits down on the sofa. “Ah Mr. Lang, what a pleasure seeing you here” Mr. Thomas says as he enters the room about five minutes later. “Shall we begin then?”