Walking into town today I passed a guy out trimming a bush. It was shaping up nicely, but I noticed a willy branch hanging down in the front. Its errant ways were messing with his form. "Get this right here," I said, as he was stepping into the street for an overall look. Startled, he replied, "Yep, I was just clearing the view from the driveway first." We smiled. I continued my trek to outer edges of the art fair.
Several hours and miles of crisscrossed blocks later, and after having paid the artist who let me take a pair of earrings last night with only the promise of a check, I was heading home on First. Suddenly, as if the bricks themselves were talking, a voice leaked out from a stoop. "Go by and check out that bush now," he said.
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