“Oh, to sit in a comfortable rocker on the front porch and waste away the hours with only a cat and the sunshine for company,” Tess said with a sigh, the sigh that came with any statement pushed out by her aged and ailing lungs.

Charlie, equally aged and ailing as Tess’ lungs, cocked his head, “Am I supposed to take that personal like?”

“Take it how you wanna’ take it,” she muttered quietly, fanning herself using a fan emblazoned with the words ‘Rev. Jefferson’s Requiem and Revival’ and a dove, all in purple on the yellowing white paper. The dove had been Mrs. Jefferson’s idea, a fact of which she reminded him frequently.

“I’ll take it as time for me to get on up in this house here and pour me another glass of iced tea before I…before I…ah, forget it,” he finished in a huff, rustling and squirming his way out of his own rocking chair.

But he paused and did not rise from his chair, which took some time to be evident owing to how inordinately long it generally took him to get up from a seated position.