It was a neighborhood Forth of July steak out in which Atticus’s whole street opened up there homes and cooked enough food to feed the whole northern hemisphere.
His father sat on a lawn chair; bouncing James the youngest of his son’s on his lap as he talked to another man who’d lived across the road from them ever since they’d bought the house.
May cowered in Atticus’s arms unable to look at her father.
“How’s the city lately Hugh?”
“Busy, you have no idea the madness that goes on down there” He sipped at the lemonade in his hand, looking at his eldest son as he held his sister. He turned his attention away, his eyes on the man in front of him as he let out a low chuckle.
The neighbor did as well; Hugh was the commander of attention. What he did others followed with a blink of the eye.
YOU ARE READING
Atticus and Indi.
SpirituellesIndi is an atheist, vegetarian ; who orders chocolate milk from a juice bar every Wednesday. Four minutes later, she sits in a confessional sipping her milk that has been placed into a juice cup and talks of her life. On the other side of the scree...
