Included in Minerva Rising, Issue 2,
December 2012, Winter.
"Who the heck is Leon?” he bellowed, entering the compact living room through the front door of our house on Ridley Circle.
As usual we all rushed to greet him, wrapping ourselves around his legs to receive his nightly kisses on the tops of our heads. Mom, wiping her hands on her apron, emerged from the kitchen where dinner simmered on the stove, glided over to his embrace and a long smooch, their ritual greeting.
He slid his leather briefcase behind the upholstered easy chair by the door, where it would await him for the next day’s early departure for work. Then he hung up his Harris Tweed topcoat. He was a snappy dresser for his sales job: pressed, spit and polished, the latest sports coats and ties from Torrelli’s, the exclusive men’s shop in Ridley Park. Mom, concentrating hard on his question, missed his smile as he strode across the living room pointing at the large picture window looking out on the street.