Summer, 2007

I’m sitting on a vast spread of lawn at the park on a Saturday morning with my shirt off, my legs stretched out before me and my arms supporting my back against a small rock nearby. Daylight savings time ends tonight despite the sun scorching overhead and glistening over the statue of an aviator clad in a 1940s flight suit and a brass plaque with the etchings of a USAF P-47 underneath.
“This is pretty cool,” I’m thinking. “But tomorrow I’m definitely bringing some reading material.”

Next morning’s literary contention will eventually result in an Iron Man limited series winning over a book of short stories by Edith Wharton.