“I’m not going out there.”
“Yes. We both are. We’re going to get wet, and we’re going to enjoy it.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Her patience with him was sapped.
Kozlowski stepped through the door and out into the drizzle, and as he did, Liz could finally see beyond him to the object in the front yard. It was a spit-shined, black motorcycle and sidecar, an antique, with polished chrome and new leather. Steve circled, admiring it from every angle.
She gathered the scarf and ball cap. Called upstairs to Tucker that she and Daddy were going out for a few minutes and would be right back. She walked out into the rain, envious of the bike for the smile it brought to her husband’s face.
She closed the door behind her.
Ridley Pearson
***
