Under a black ice sky, a residentially challenged elderly man stumbles across a frozen lake and into an abandoned fishing shelter. He sits and stares and wonders why the writer never writes.

On a porch overlooking the lake, a dreamer fantasizes about a sultry chipotle waitress with onyx hair constrained in a ponytail spilling halfway down her back.

At a pizza joint deep in the middle of Georgia two waitresses converse.

“Did you get that call?”

“No, I don’t know how to answer the phone.”

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