Nervously playing with her hair, Annie pulled up his quiet, mountain drive. On the passenger seat next to her sat three grocery bags, cans rattling within until the car stopped. Sweet Annie opened the door of her like-new car and delicately grabbed the food as Uncle Eddie sat predictably unmoved, at ease on the front porch picking his banjo.
Like always, she approached his house, smiling, let herself in, and put everything away. The music rolled towards her, and closing her eyes briefly, she slowly, deeply inhaled. She reappeared and took the seat next to him.
“Good morning.”
