"He's going out again," Travis said, gesturing at the back window."Hush up, Travis," his mother said."Gramps has cracked, Mom. We both know it. He should be in a home or something." Travis chewed on a wad of gum. He'd replace it with tobacco when he was out of the house, but this would have to do with his mom around."I think it's sweet." His mother washed out the remainder of the breakfast dishes while gazing out at her father. "It's only been a year.""Yeah, but he goes out there, sits in that chair, and talks to her like she is sitting in a chair next to him. It's weird enough having that chair out back," Travis said. "It's not hurting anyone."Travis rolled his eyes and pushed through the back screen door of the ancient farmhouse, striding toward the chair.As he approached, he could hear his grandfather say, "No, Nell, the boy will be fine. You'll see." His grandfather was deaf as a post and didn't hear Travis's feet in the grass as his grandson crept up."Nell, are you sure he is the one killing the chickens?" his grandfather asked.Travis stopped and stared. He and his friends had snagged a few of his grandfather's chickens a couple nights back. There was no way that his grandfather could know that. Still, there was no way his dead grandmother was sitting in a chair beside him telling him this stuff. Was there? Looking at the ground, he noticed a patch of dead earth to the side of the chair his grandfather sat in. It was as if something was blocking the sun from that spot of grass. Grandpa Troy was too frail to move the chair. Still, if it wasn't Grandpa Troy's chair killing the ground beside it... whose was it?Travis turned around and strode back to the house."You're right," he told his mom. "It's nothing." "I told you," she said,smiling over her shoulder. Dropping the dishcloth to the side of the sink, she asked in concern, "What's wrong, Travis? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Wendy, this is great! Glad to see you back!
"The recliner totally made the wingback lose its class."