#105
Outside under the awning. She brought more beer from the house, the dog following her like a shadow.
Her: that’s an airbus but the one before was a Boeing.
Me: how can you tell? They all sound alike to me.
Her: practice.
She smiled and leaned back. The rain wouldn’t let up but instead of being stuck inside at least here you can enjoy it.
Her: it’s so rare. I savor these days.
True, not much rain in the desert. It seems to confuse the dog. He’s not used to the water. The damp.
Me: he smells like dog.
Another plane overhead. This one was bigger, even I could tell. She was listening.
Her: 767 or maybe an A330, but there aren’t many of those out here.
Later at the door, our breaths of Budweiser, she kissed me. She got in her car and rolled down the window.
Her: I’ll call you from Seattle. I’ll think of you in Miami!
Me: I’ll see you when I see you.