Glen fished in his pocket for a small tablet, he'd received as a thankyou,

from tireplanet.  Seeing about some parts, he jotted down the guy's number.  Old fashioned writing stuff down, worked - and besides, glen didn't care to have his phone on, during church.  Whoever wanted to call, e or text, could wait.  Mom was okay, the tightness on her left side was just stress.  

Just stress...HAH!  Who wouldn't be stressed!  Coming into work, only to be told - after some, what, eighteen years - you're history.  Strange...just last fall, she'd received a little plaque, it sat on a table, in one of the downstairs rooms - among some pictures - for...whatever project was going on.  An earlier little wood-veneer little plaque was upstairs on the bureau, in the room where his parents slept.  A room, mom would only go in, with rag and mop - and come out, misty eyed.

Glen had, for some time, made up his mind, that if anything happened to mom - when, anything... he'd sell his share of the property to Brian for something like a dollar.  Glen had his own place, and keeping that, was enough house, thankyouverymuch.  Glen could never get how people would have a house here, and a summer house there - too much like maintenance.   Got in the way of ... well, living, and doing other things, seeing other places.

Ya know...like the writer's workshop.  That was a good place for him go have been...a blessing.  Having met Ohio's mrs, the nice lady, somehow got him to thinking about Traci.  Still, a bitter pill to swallow...taking up with that ... Borjus, or whatever th' eff that grease-gun jockey...still, Traci was his sister, and yeah whatszisface, was his brother-in-law.  Way things looked, didn't look like he, brian or mom would be able to write or call - much less, see Traci and her...the word stuck, Husband, anytime soon.  Any nephews or nieces yet? 

Yep, like that redhead kid... Molly? sitting two pews in front of him, had said to some other kid, during the break.  "Stupid war."