Desert Storm

“Did it rain last night?” Mom asked, looking out the window this morning.

“Nope,” Bill replied, pouring his first cup of coffee.  “The street isn’t wet, is it?”

“I don’t know,” she answered.  “I don’t see colors too well in the morning.”

I could hear Bill’s groan from back in our office where I was perched in front of my PC.  I was surprised when he actually continued the conversation.  “The street is asphalt.  It doesn’t turn a color, it just gets darker when it’s wet.”

“Darker is a color,” she argued.

“Well there aren’t any puddles, there aren’t any clouds, and there aren’t any darker colors!”

“Oh well, maybe it’ll rain tonight,” she said, ending the conversation and diving into the morning crossword.

“Maybe it will,” Bill replied as he left the kitchen.  “Or maybe it’ll snow and then the colors will all turn white!” he muttered as he came down the hall toward the office.

“I heard that!” she called after him.  “And we’ve gotten snow here before you know, so maybe it will.”


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