A Fiery Kind of Red

The weather has broken and the whole world seems to know about it. Kids disgorged from dirty school busses leap over puddles, whooping with joy. Billy Miller wears his hood over his head, but leaves the rest of the coat hanging behind him like a shadow. Kayla Driesden sports pink running shorts, her winter-bleached legs blending in with the snow piled on the sidewalk, so if you squint your eyes just so you can almost convince yourself that Kayla strides on invisible legs.

And here comes Stuart Mason now, just in time. He walks down the street, afternoon cup of decaf clutched in his hand. He sits on the peeling park bench, watching the kids, enjoying their sudden sunny moods. The air is full of a near-hilarity, brought on by the thirty-degree change in temperature. Now, the kids aren’t looking for snow days.

They want baseball.




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