"I don't know why we are here, but I'm pretty sure that it is not in order to enjoy ourselves." Ludwig Wittgenstein

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Winter in July

Lola opened the package she’d received that morning by UPS, from her father in Boston, unwrapping it carefully, and taking extra care not to break its contents. She discovered however, that rather than something delicate and breakable, the package contained a set of ultra soft, flannel sheets. She loved flannel sheets, but the weather in Los Angles hardly called for such cozy bed linens.

She knew her father was well-intentioned and that he really loved her, even if his gifts were sometimes a little “off.” In many ways, she mused, Richard and father are quite similar.

Even though it was only 7 PM, she made her bed with the new sheets, turned the air conditioner up all the way to high, and snuggled, like a tightly swaddled child, under the sheets’ warm reassuring fabric.

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