The Uphill Slide

There is always something.




The men sat side by side facing the Monongahela River, the large man whose body filled the bench and the thinner older man whose body was partly cloaked by the embrace of his wheelchair. The old man had worn his herringbone ivy cap for this outing while the younger man wore his black. The chair held a navy and red striped umbrella over the old man’s head as contraception to the sullen sky’s warning of rain. Music from an iPod shared its collection of blues with all in hearing range.

The men’s eyes traced the concentric stone circles to the bullseye star. Beyond this flat labyrinth a fence held back those who tried to get too close to the river’s edge.

The waters entertained the swooping and skipping and sailing waterfowl as it flowed to meet its consorts. Occasionally the sound of metal wheels crossing overhead joined the music of the men’s respite.

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