Her hair was red
Last night, I took Loca and Lucky for a long walk in the twilight. The oppressiveness of summer’s heat waxing was offset by a slight breeze – and I mean slight. As I rounded the bayou coming out of the park, I heard a shuff shuff sound behind me and then a man drawled, “Is your hair naturally red or do you dye it?”
Without turning around, I said, “Who wants to know?”
The man said, “Nobody.” Then after a pause and some more shuff shuff from his bicycle, he said, “You sound like a natural.”
As he pedaled off I caught a glimpse of him – a tall glass of water with slightly long hair riding down Esplanade.