slurping from the saucer

they sat at the bar for the
sunday version of happy hour
and watched snow blow across
the lake like flour flying from

his grandmother’s hand crank
sifter. It was cold outside but
he was warmed by the thought
of her homemade bread fresh

from the oven, slathered in
butter and served with a cup
of cream and sugar with a
little bit of coffee in it. his

grandfather instructed him to
pour a bit of the scorching
hot, liquid (which, of course,
wasn’t hot at all) into the

saucer to let it cool before
slurping it from the saucer.
he noticed the big bumps on
his grandfather’s hands and

then he stared at the bumps
on his hands as he swirled the
bourbon. his wife asked him
what he was thinking about

and he told her that he was
swirling the bourbon just to
let it cool before slurping it
down. His wife stared at him

and said that there was ice in
the glass and that he only slurp-
ed when he had sipped too much.
he looked out the window, saw

that the heavy snow had stopped
and he could see the ice sailors
fly by on their circuitous racing
route.

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