Four Weekends and a Funeral

by Ellie Palmer

“He’s completely Al’s type,” Mara says, trying her phone toward the ground now, getting increasingly desperate. “I don’t have a type,” I argue, but my voice is shrill and defensive. “So, like…a beardy Indiana Jones?” Chelsea inquires.

Fall’s the season I like the least because it’s the most fleeting one. It’s always orange and vibrant in my memories, with a pumpkin coffee in my hand to warm me just a bit.

7:19 AM Chelsea: Ford at any age CAN GET IT and so can Adam

“So only when you must craft an emergency farmhouse table do you stride into the cedar trees and chop one down with great purpose? How does a live, laugh, love sign rank? Is that a need or a want?” “Definitely a need. Could you imagine walking into a home that didn’t give you explicit permission to live, laugh, and love all at once?”

“Mara got our first team banned by insulting the host,” I murmur to Adam. “I wasn’t insulting Stu. I was describing him. He’s the one who didn’t like what he heard.” I lean closer, and smell oranges and wood shavings. “It was a whole ordeal. We changed our name, and Mara dyed her hair brown for a couple of months.”

Josh ceases typing to point at my pink-cheeked grin. “See. That’s the look.” “I’ve earned a free cookie from Panera, Josh. That’s all.” Josh grimaces. “Whenever you get excited about your Panera rewards, I feel so sad for you.”