Making Lemonade [55fiction.com]

admin

Administrator
John stepped out the back door, across the deck, and into his lawn. The dry, brown grass crunched as small clouds of dust billowed beneath his shoes with each step. It was only ten, and already the mercury was into the nineties.
Still, John smiled. No rain meant no mowing. A happy Father’s Day indeed!
Share This
</img>
</img> </img> </img> </img> </img> </img> </img> </img>
125680755
</img>
128440135
 
Top