Waste Not
The doorbell rings. “Can ya get that?” Jim asks. “I’m hangin’ the last sheet.” Janet is at the stove. She wipes her hands on her apron before opening the door. Two teenagers in white button-ups are on the porch. “Excuse me, ma’am,” one of them says, “do you have time to talk about our Lor—” “Not this evening,” Janet says politely, “I’m sorry, boys, but I’ve got dinner on. Maybe you can join us tomorrow? I’ll be sure and cook enough to share.” “Yes, ma’am. Should we return around the same time?” “That’d be perfect.” Janet waves to the boys and returns to the kitchen. Jim places his hammer and nails on the counter. “I’ve nearly finished that room,” he says. “All she lacks is a couple more sheets on that south wall. Who was that, by the way?” He asks. “A couple more sheets.” “What about dinner?” “I don’t see why not,” Janet grins. “Better than lettin’em go to waste.”