He had a deep-rooted fear of the sky. Wind scared him. Trees terrified him. A thunderstorm could practically paralyze him. He wasn't always like this. Age often brings with it odd phobias. As the years pass, one witnesses many things, and makes a quiet mental note of all of them. In time, those horrors from the past take root and blossom into full-fledged anxiety and panic. Wind, storms, and even the trees - these made sense. One good storm could bring a tree down on his house. Or his neighbor's. He no longer had the strength to remove the trees, and didn't have the funds to pay a professional to do the job. But the sky? Even on a clear, sunny day - looking up at the sky caused dread. He noticed the deepening blue knowing that just beyond was the void of space. Nothing was coming from there - was it? He wasn't concerned with aliens or meteors. He doubted a species advanced enough to reach us would want anything to do with us. A meteor large enough to ...
Teddy was already there. He usually was. Same stool. Same posture. Same way of sitting like he might have to get up fast - like he didn’t fully trust being comfortable. Bob didn’t ask. Didn’t need to. They were going through their daily routines. The bell over the door jingled. Teddy clocked it without turning. Habit. You always look. You just don’t always look . He knew who it was. He always knew. “…hey,” he said, not turning around. Marshmallow slid onto a stool. Not next to him. Not far either. “Hey, Teddy.” That was it. That was how they did it. Teddy nodded like that was enough conversation to last a while. He picked at a napkin. Folded it. Unfolded it. Put it back. Bob greeted Marshmallow as he moved. “Hey, Mellow.” He set Teddy’s plate down. “One burger of the day,” he muttered. Then, a beat later, another plate a couple stools over. “Made extra,” he said. “Don’t make me explain it.” Marshmallow looked at it. “Thank you, Bob.” He shrugged like it anno...