Photo Story: Devil’s Breath
Some days there wasn’t enough starch in the world. Jessie’s shirtwaist wilted against her body. In the street the ice wagon raised baked-dust clouds. Only Mr. Willis looked fresh and cool, as if carrying that ice around kept him safe in some frosted land.
“It’s a scorcher!”
“My mother called days like this the devil’s breath.”
“I’ll bet she was fair like you. Skin ice wouldn’t melt on.”
Mr. Willis chipped off a perfect, blue-tinged ice cube for her. Jessie held it to her throat as he watched, felt the cool drops running down her chest, proving that iceman wrong.
Photo Credit: Daniel Frančišković
I’m actually old enough to remember an ice man. Terrific ending!
Great details!
I love this story, Kathryn!
Fantastic! Yes, it’s a little “juicy”. Just what I needed at the onset of summer!
Thanks, Lynn! <3