He smells like ice cold lemonade on a hot summer day. Sitting on the wooden rocking chair out on the front porch. As the hot, dry, dusty wind sends the corn stalks rattling, it hits the sweat on your neck which only increases the heat. This heat flows into your head and settles in your chest. It travels down your arm to your fingertips, but the glass in your hand sweats itself. Beads of cold drip over your fingers, sliding down your wrist, staving off the heat. Continue reading “Country boy”