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.”