Cal was in the living room with his brother, Mike, and Mike’s wife, Char, looking at old photo albums. The one on Cal’s lap went back to their youth. Some of the pictures had faded, and they all smelled like smoke; their parents had been heavy smokers.
“You should scan some of these before they lose more detail,” Cal said, turning a page. The wine with dinner had made him mellow and happy, and he was enjoying this trip down memory lane. Mike sat next to him with half the album on his lap. Char hung over his shoulder, pointing and giggling at their dorkiness as kids.
Cal squinted at a photo of them on bikes. “I’d forgotten we put playing cards in the spokes to make noise. Think any of them would be worth money now if we hadn’t trashed them that way?”
“Who knows? People collect everything these days. Look at the scrape on my knee. I remember skinning it climbing down from the tree fort. That sucker bled like crazy, and it ached so bad the first night, I could hardly sleep, but the next morning, I was up in the fort again.” Continue reading