Member-only story
Junior took his mother to the Shelby County Flea Market for the first time in ten weeks. There, beneath the wispy fingers of an old persimmon tree, sat Death in a flowing velvet robe and a black facemask. Upon Death’s oaken card table sat an informational poster, with the words “COVID-19: KNOW THE RISKS” in big red letters, and a half-acre of microscopic gray print underneath.
Junior meandered over to the booth. His mother, using a walker just to be on the safe side, ambled behind him. By the time she caught up, the great and terrible teacher had already begun to speak.
“How can I help y’all?”
“Well, sir — I thought I’d come over and — I’m a big fan of your work, by the way, I just want to say that right off. If it weren’t for you, gosh, I dunno what I’d be doing right now. Probably taking care of my granny and two extra children. At least. Thanks a bunch.”
“Appreciate you saying so.”
“So, my mom here — say ‘hi’ mama, he’s real famous — anyway, we was wondering exactly what our risks are. Like, how much is this thing gonna cost us, total?”
“Well now, you gotta look at the situation practically. How much is her upkeep?”
Junior lifted his cap and scratched his head. “Hard to say. She lives with us, and she gets her check every month. But…” he…
