Marshmallows And Wine

Sitting around the fire pit reminded Paula of the summer nights roasting marshmallows with her grandparents here on the island. Now she’s sipping wine around the fire pit in her own back yard while Sherlock lays at her feet. Paula turned her head around to look at her house feeling proud of herself for have the courage to get out of an abusive marriage.

Sherlock raised his head and stared toward the driveway.

“What do’ya see?” rubbing his head.

A golf cart pulled in behind hers.

“Hello,” she heard.

The dog rose up wagging his tail and barking. “Peter?” walking toward the driveway.

“Not too late, is it?”

Too late for Peter Hampton? Never. “No, come on in.”

Sherlock jumped on him as Peter came through the gate, almost looking him in the eye.

“Sherlock, get down,” Paula firmly said.

The dog obeyed, and wondered out in the yard out of sight.

“Brought you a little house-warming gift,” Peter reached into his attache case.

“Marshmallows,” Paula said, after Peter showed her.

They finished the bag of marshmallows along with the bottle of wine. The fire seemed to be warmer with Peter by her side

Published by authorjturley

R James started writing bad poetry in his mid-30's. While taking a couple writing courses he wrote short stories with interesting characters. R James has been published in, Creepies 2: Things that go Bump in the Closet, Deviant Shadows: Tales of the Parabnormal, among others. R James got sick of the northern winters, and writes from the sunshine state, where the sun sets into the Gulf of Mexico.

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