Frank leaned forward, skeptical. Then Lucy started shoving chocolates in her mouth, down her shirt, up her hat. Frank let out a snort. Then a chuckle. Then a full-bellied laugh that shook the sofa cushions.
"Come on, grandpa," Maya said, offering her hand. Come on grandpa- fuck me-
She picked up the remote, turned on the smart TV, and navigated to a playlist she’d made: Golden Age Comedy. She queued up a clip of Lucille Ball in the chocolate factory. Frank leaned forward, skeptical
They rode slowly. Not because they were out of shape, but because Frank insisted on stopping. To watch a squirrel argue with a crow. To point out the house where the old ice cream parlor used to be, the one with the jukebox that played actual vinyl. He showed her the "secret" path through the woods where he and his friends had built a rickety rope swing—the rope was long gone, but the tree, a massive oak, still stood. Then a chuckle