Thumper Thinks Out Loud

When we lived in Ohio, we had a kitchen about the size of a postage stamp; aside from dim lighting and a floor plan that allowed for only one person to do anything in there at a time, there was very little counter space, necessitating the purchase of a cart for the microwave.

Here, we have plenty of counter space, so the cart, which is quite nice, lives in my office, where it holds assorted crap that just shouldn't be spread out on the floor with the other assorted crap. Earlier I bent over to pick up an piece of paper, and realized there was a wad of hair sticking out from the seams of the side and the front, and I started to yank it out.

Then I realized, it's red hair.

None of us have red hair.

I don't think any of our friends ever had red hair, either, at least not since I dated that one guy in high school.

I looked closer; it was more gold, with just a tinge of red. And it was stiff, individual strands sticking straight out like fingers pointing right at me.

Hank.

He's been gone almost 4 years, but there's a tuft of his hair, waving at me.

I sat back in my chair, pondering Hank's errant hair.

I left it alone.