4
EDGAR PARRISH PRESSED the last of the bright pink flowers into the fragrant layer of mulch in his front yard. Sweat pooled in the armpits of his faded Texas A&M t-shirt, a leftover from a relationship that had ended long ago. He vaguely remembered Jeremy rooting for the Aggies on Saturday mornings when Edgar was out in the yard. It would make sense the t-shirt was his, as they had always been roughly the same size. Edgar had been using the shirt for gardening so long that any olfactory remnants of his former lover were gone, replaced with the smells of perspiration, grass, and fertilizer.
He strained up from his right knee to his feet. Just beyond the mid-point of his forties, he wondered when it became such a chore to sit and stand. He wasn’t a gym rat, but he kept fit, enough to keep
