I am walking home from the park when I see a car coming up the street. I step aside, and into a story.
I have walked by this pile of lumber for the past several days, but only now do I notice the padlock attached to a rusted latch connected to the pile of lumber that stands perhaps 18 inches tall but as wide as a mystery, which is to say, not to be measured by you or by me.
But we can talk about it. Endlessly. Someone had something to hide. Or protect.
Who? What? Why? When? (Where hangs back, having nothing to add to this particular conversation, but ready to leap in, if and when necessary.) That is all for today….