by Freida Marie Crump
Greetings from the Ridge.
"Freida, it’s silly. I don’t need to go to the thing. You can go alone… won’t hurt my feelings."
"Herb, it’s the town’s annual blowout. The homecoming. Lord, folks drive from across the country to come back and you just sit here three blocks away from the park?"
"What if I die just walking down there?"
"Then I’ll bury you on the