Christmas lights hang from the ceiling. The air-conditioner and fans turned on high. It is October. She counts her blessings.

The leaves have not changed yet. Grass is still green and in need of a cut. Sun and rain. Sun and rain.

He sits on the pier with a fishing pole in hand. Nothing has hit his line all day. He wonders if autumn will ever come.

They used to call this Indian summer. Now it’s just summer extended. Eighty-three degrees in Northern Indiana. The fat man drips sweat. He curses God.

Nothing is biting. At least the days are getting shorter. Soon, the darkness will come. He says. A good excuse to sleep early.

These days are numbered.