Overheard at the lake

“Daddy, Daddy, do you want a big dog or a little dog?” she asked. Long spindly legs, long brown braids, somewhat desperate in that younger kid manner of getting an adult’s attention. ¬†“Because golden doodles come in …,” and the conversation drifts away as they pass.

“I just don’t know what to do for me,” she said, with a touch of melancholy. Shorter green athletic shorts, petite, tight white shirt.

“You could do gravel, smooth gravel like they have over here.” ¬†People on bikes.

“So, anyway, what happened to you?”

“When I was on Prozac …”