No Cognitive Defect XIII


No Cognitive Defect - Part XIII

By James M. O'Meara, © 2009

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Black Tupelo...

Wilson swung his crutch hard at the workshop door, shattering both window panes simultaneously and sending glass fragments into the workshop.

Erica would murder him if she saw him doing this.

They'd installed the door years earlier, and Erica had cut the glass for the window panes herself. She wouldn't be at all fond of his smashing up her handiwork. They'd lucked into the door while out for a long, fall country drive on the winding roads along the Massachusetts-New Hampshire border. It was propped up against a sickly Black Tupelo, a tree which was stubbornly refusing to die, with decaying, withered branches on its northern half and blazing, red, scarlet-purple and yellow-orange foliage on its southern face. There was a large hand-scrawled "FREE" sign hanging from the doorknob. An old man in a rocking chair watched from his porch, smoking a pipe and rocking gently as they pulled over and got out to inspect the door. For months they'd been looking for something to replace the dented, heavily-rusted metal door to the workshop. Erica didn't want something store-bought; that simply wouldn't do. She wanted something with character.

"I'll know it when I see it," she'd said, and the moment she spotted the door reposing against the Black Tupelo it was clear they'd found it at last.

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