I stepped onto the old front porch. The empty swing creaked and swayed, despite the lack of an evening breeze.

“Is that you, Charles? You’re early tonight.” It was 80 degrees, but I felt a chill as I sat next to him on the swing.

He always was a charmer.

Susan Gale Wickes spent many years in the newspaper industry, but is now devoting her time and energy to writing poetry and short stories. She has been published in Haiku Journal, Sleeve, and 50-Word Stories.