A Field of Yellow

“Shut me in, shut me in. These new things are invading my sensibilities,” Stick leaned back on the couch and made gurgling noises in his throat. Lewis sat in a straight-backed chair at a small table near the kitchen. He was busy rolling a cigarette. Sweet bottom leaf, he always said. He licked the cigarette closed.
“Can you roll me one of those?” Stick said.
Lewis handed him the cigarette without hesitation and began to roll another.
“Is that your dog barking?” Stick said.
Lewis licked closed another cigarette. “What are your plans?”
“I don't know. I would like to smoke some more.”
Lewis went to the bedroom and closed the door. The wind whistled in the window. It was below freezing outside. The dog continued to bark. Stick pushed back the blinds over the window and looked out into the dark. The lit porch light illuminated a small sphere which included the concrete steps and a patch of dead grass.

Julia arrived at the Osceola Creek library five minutes before she had to clock in for work. On Thursdays she was dedicated to re-shelving. Mrs. Smith, the head librarian was a portly woman who wore large flowing dresses, usually ones printed with flowers, glasses, and black work shoes.
The library was brightly lit by sunlight through many windows. Art by local artists adorned the walls. Arrays of cubicles where one could operate a computer took up one section of the library. It was not as well lit as the front of the library.

“Let me listen to this music for a while,” said Stick. He put the earphones on and continued listening. The afternoon had grown sombre. There under the bridge the thin white light filtered down from the blue sky.
Charles took his fishing pole and walked back over to the pool of water. He cast out and waited. The water didn't look very clean. His bobber began to dance then went under. Charles pulled back on the pole to set the hook.
On the way back to town they sat down in the shade of a large sycamore beside the dirt road. It was cool and the breeze felt good on Stick's face. They drank from a plastic bottle of water.
“Where's that girl?” said Charles.
“You mean Tanya? The one with the huge boobs?” said Stick.
“Yeah,”
“I haven't seen her in a while. I guess she got tired of me.”
“Ever get any?”
Stick smiled. “Nah, man”

When they got back to the apartments in the city, Charles' woman started berating him for going fishing.
“I'll see you Charles,” said Stick. Charles was busy arguing with her to respond.
Stick placed his pole and tackle box against the house, near the back door. It was a windy day and warm. He laid down on the new spring grass in the back yard and watched the sky. The clouds were moving especially fast across the sky.
He fell asleep. In his dream he was in a car with a woman and he couldn't speak. He began to cry. He wanted to tell the woman he loved her. They were near a landfill. Protruding pipes spewed burning methane into the night.
He woke up to the sound of a police siren. He looked around quickly to see if anyone was nearby. The yard was as uninhabited as it was when he fell asleep. It was getting late. Stick went into his apartment and heated a bowl of soup. He watched television and ate the soup.