July 24, 1969
Somewhere in Wyoming
“Ya know, Jack, I been meaning ta ask ya…”
“Ask me what, En?” said Jack, poking at the campfire with a stick.
“The last postcard ya sent me…that was one strange picture.”
Jack looked him, puzzled. “Really? What was it? I figured some mountain scene or something, like I usually send.”
“No, it was a picture a two lobsters. One was green and one was red and it said, ‘Fresh from the ocean, fresh from the pot.’”
Jack chuckled. “Mebbe I sent it cuz the lobster looked delicious.”
“Delicious, huh? I ain’t ever ate lobster, what does it taste like?”
Jack shrugged. “I have no idea, I live in Texas, remember? When would I ever eat lobster?”
“Then why’d ya send the fuckin card? Where did it come from, anyway?”
“I dunno. Just some arbitrary choice, I guess. Mebbe I found it at a flea market.”
“You are too much,” said Ennis, shaking his head.
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“Worked how?” said Ennis, looking puzzled.
“Yer here, ain’t ya?”
Ennis looked down at his hands, then smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
(189 words)