Bev sat on the metal lawn chair she kept on her front porch, bouncing a bit, idly swatting mosquitoes who were attracted to her fat arms, and considering her next snack, even though it pained her knees to pull herself to her feet. Her iced tea had gone watery, and her magazine was so boring that she nodded off.
In her dream she was young again. A yellow striped sundress blew against her shapely legs. As she walked down the sidewalk, her transistor radio played, “I Got You Babe” but for some reason Cher was out of tune and apparently traveling by at a fast clip.
Bev pried open her eyes. She thought she smelled smoke.