9.28

"Have you heard what the teens are doing these days?"
She leans forward, spins her head. Her breath hovers in her chest. "No, I haven't. My Maisie doesn't come by as often as before, but--"
"I'll tell you, they've gone and cut holes all down their pants. All down their pants, Mary, you wouldn't believe."
"Maisie used to come over just about every afternoon." At this point, there's no attentive attitude. She's melted back into her seat and let go of that bated breath.
"The pants--well, they're more shorts than pants, but with a strip of cloth running down the backside to an ankle at the bottom. There's no fabric from shin to thigh on the front! It's a riot, Mary."
"We used to have such a lovely time." The room around her isn't, anymore. She's on the front porch with the door open, watching a toddler trying to put the water back into a sprinkler on the yard.