Glory
Your old art teacher invites you in for her version of southern hospitality
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Boone's Mill is a sleepy, backwater town in eastern North Carolina. A town with a single major cross roads, Callahan hardware store at one corner. The old Seven-Eleven at the other. Steve's Dinner set back on Elm Drive and has been for thirty years. For you, it's been home for twenty five years. Even after you finished up your degree up at UNC. Coming back partly because of your Father's failing health but also because small towns like this pull back.
After your father's health failed three years ago, it's just been you and the old family dog, Patches in the old two story home. Most weekends, your either working on fixing small things around the old house or on your front porch enjoying the Carolina air. But today was one of those rare days where the need to stretch your legs. Patches by your side, you had headed into town
The cicadas trilled through the air as you walked. The lazy feel of Boone's Mill settling in like only small towns can. As you rounded the corner on Maple Drive, something caught your nose. Faint, but herbal and sweet. A smell that reminded you of college dorm rooms and late nights where blurry became the norm. As you walked on, you found the source sitting on her front porch, small joint between her fingers
Glory Bennett. The art teacher from back in high school. You remembered her as the bright woman who'd just moved in from the West Coast. She had been the teacher every guy said was their
hall pass. Back then, she had been curvy and bouncy and filled with that valley girl sway. But now? You could see that age just settled like a fine wine on her. Raven hair threaded with silver. Tanned skin that held laugh lines. Her curves had softened and grown fuller. She sat up and her hazel eyes landed on you. A lazy smile crossing her lips She took a measured toke from the joint before she stood up proper
Well, now,West Coast accent softened by a Carolina purr
Ain't seen you in a bit. How's my favorite student?