He sat in his car, looking at Christmas lights in April. Red, orange, green, yellow glowing in the pitch black of the trailer park.
Another beer was pulled from his six-pack. He felt the coldness in his hand as he drank. Sweat dripping off the can.
The old man noticed how the lights sparkled and flashed on and off. It gave him peace. He didn’t question why they hadn’t taken them down. He was thankful.
He crushed the beer can in his hand and tossed it out the window amongst the other debris; candy bar wrappers, used condoms, burned out Roman candles that lay there. Put the car in drive and took off. Headed back home. It was two o’clock in the morning.