Last night I finished The Art of Racing in the Rain. The last part was a re-play of a moment I shared with Ally. Feeling unsettled, I decided to go for a drive. For some reason though I felt the need to dress up. So I pulled on my good jeans, my Fryes and a long-sleeved shirt. I got into my Honda Element and starting driving down Old Stockbridge.
First en route Victorias, then realized I forgot my wallet. Back to Mayfair, then the other direction out on Route 108 to Boones Farm. I had a little cash. I thought “I wonder if Rita’s is open? … probably not, so when it’s not I’ll just go on to take softserve to Ma and Pete.” I pulled down St Johns Lane and the Rita’s lights were on, so I pulled in.
Since my eyeglasses popped out one of their lenses yesterday I looked creepy wearing my prescription sunglasses at 9-something o’clock at night. I bought three small cups of swirl custard, and one large large cone of the same.
I spied a planter with a yucca-looking bush in it. I walked over, brushed the fronds aside and lowered the cone into the heart of the cactus. I started for the car to go to Boones. Occurred to me, and I reached over to the passenger seat and grabbed The Art of Racing in the Rain.
I walked back over to the planter and placed the book, cover-facing out with its dog’s face looking-out from over the rim of the wooden-barrel-stave planter.