Michael Malone - Weebly

"Oh, Sammy, listen, I know, I know. Why don't
you go take a walk, go get a drink. There's nothing you
can do here. Orchid's sitting in there; I'm going to sleep.
Either take a sleeping pill or take a stroll. Go on, go
on."
Smalter walked westward among the pine groves
and orchard and meadow that lay picture-book perfect
between Elizabeth Circle and the silken river Rampage.
Through the pines on the far bank, a plum and lavender
sky pinked the water. Slowly, thumbs hooked in the
pockets of his seersucker vest, puffing on his pipe
enough to keep it lit, the pharmacist took his prescribed
stroll north along the side of the Rampage and
wondered how Ramona felt, what it would be like to be
Ramona now. As he passed under a low willow branch,
he patted the bark with his hand. Boys, when he was
young, had swung out on the branch and dropped from
there naked into the river to swim.
And once or twice, in the coldest winters, when the
Rampage was safely frozen, older boys had brought
their jalopies onto the ice to race them. Children had
skated. Ramona had skated, too, a grown woman,