The screen door slammed shut, bounced open and slowly settled closed. The porch boards groaned as he moved to his chair and settled in. He leaned his head back, sighed deeply and relaxed. The sun was slowly setting in the distance, his favorite time of the day.
“I told you to stop slammin’ that door,” she said. She dropped a peeled potato into a pan of water at her feet, pulled another out of her lap and started peeling it.
“Joe Culver called today. He wrecked that tractor of his,” he said. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and tapped it against his hand, dislodging one from the pack. “He’s gonna have trouble harvesting his crop without it.”
“Joe Culver.” She shook her head and sighed. “It’s hard to feel bad for a guy who takes as much liquor as him. He’s lucky he didn’t kill that couple last year. Drinkin’ and drivin’ and runnin’ stop signs. Whoever heard of such.”
“Maybe. I guess it could be karma.” He struck a match against his boot heel. The flame jumped to life as he moved it toward his mouth.
“Karma? That’s a bunch’a New Age crystal rubber stuff,” she replied. “You reap what you sow. That’s how life works.”
He smiled and gazed at the horizon as he inhaled deeply, pulling the refreshing vapors into his body, his mind, his soul.
Yep, this was his favorite time of the day.