a piece of Perfect...

At the street end of the dirt drive, you could only turn right or left. The funny thing, both directions ended up in the same place; Fox Hollow. Fox Hollow was the only bar in town and doubled as the Post Office. Coincidentally, it was the ice cream parlor in the summer and where you take your kids to get their picture with Santa during the holidays. Oh! Let’s not forget the Rotarians and Tuesday night bingo. The other handy thing about the place, it’s also the bus stop. Naturally, that’s where I met Loyd, nine years ago, when I hit town. You might say it was two steps down from the Army and a stumble back in time.
Back at the house I’d make my left or my right and head for the Fox Hollow. Me, Loyd, and Bit had been meeting up there for coffee at O’dark thirty for a number of years now and it just doesn’t seem right to start the day differently. Sure, I guess we could have met at the diner, but as long as Paula Ann was willing to bring our plates to us, why change?
By the time I get there Loyd will be on his second beer and his third cup of coffee. Bit will ask him why he drinks beer so early in the morning and Loyd will tell him it’s cause he never met a beer he didn’t like. Shortly after that, Bit will ask him why he doesn’t eat something and Loyd will remind him yet again that there is a sandwich in every bottle and a pork chop in every can. Then there will be silence till I get there. God, I love small town life. Nothing ever changes and there’s security in that.