He craned his head to the side, trying to get a different angle on it. The enormous, shadowy figure remained. Something had to be up with his eyes. He opened the door and smelled the air wafted in from the river replace the stagnant domestic smell of bachelor living. He took a few steps toward the figure suspiciously. As he reached the beginning of the brush, the figure dissipated into the form of the thick plot of honeysuckle. He frowned. He didn’t like the way it stunk up the yard once it got hot.

Honeysuckle is an invasive species to America. It comes from Japan and chokes out the local fauna. Barrett decided that he would clear it tomorrow, and maybe build a small chicken-wire fence by the cliff so that if anyone drank there, they would be safe.

2

2

THE ROOM ONLY YOU SEE

From the comfort of a decade-strong leather recliner, Emery rested. The small house built by a cadre of pear-shaped cousins sat all lonesome on a hundred-acre property flanking Supplemental Road Q a dozen choice miles out of Armin. Emery was an Imperial boy, a son of Jefferson County through and through, and it had taken forty years of adult living, a divorce, an impish daughter moving to New York, two back surgeries, a drinking problem temporarily mastered multiple times, and one unceremonious retirement to make him want to leave it, and when he did, he only shuffled a few counties down. Howe County was isolated. Not particularly more isolated than Jefferson County in the grand scheme of things, but it was isolated in the fact that none of his family lived around here, so if they wanted him to come visit, he always had a built-in excuse.

Hours always slipped for Emery. It was the kind of existence that was only sustainable by college students in summer and single, retired men. It was March, and in the morning the sun blasted in and made the small rooms swelter. The only respite Emery had was his living room window air conditioner. The window unit was aimed directly at the position of his face and belly while seated in the recliner. He rarely slept in his bed. The only difference between being awake and being asleep is that right before he went to “bed,” he draped a small blanket his ex-wife had made for him (post-divorce, they were on good terms) over his outstretched legs and drifted asleep to baseball highlights. He would return to the bedroom in October, most likely, as the season chilled. The bedroom was the smallest room and contained the fewest windows, so it held heat much better. The television was exchanged for western novels at this juncture. His daughter had set up a computer for him in there as well, and this was usually the only time of year he would get set on tinkering on it, usually playing free cell.