Morning Ritual

Mark crawled into his claimed parking space. Inching his immaculately red Jeep Cherokee backward, head lolling out the open door, he scrutinized the tires inhumanly close to the curb. He stared off into the distance. With instinctual caution Mark paused, and then bounded down, his beagle-brown eyes scanning familiar turf. Clad in institutional blue, he stretched. His potbelly tested the limits of the white buttons of his wrinkled shirt. Satisfied at last, he sniffed the fresh morning air. Mark gathered speed and warily circled the Jeep three times, constantly searching above and below for dents, chipped paint, or perhaps snakes. He barked a friendly greeting and ambled off to the schoolÕs, lawn-mower shed. At the door he scratched his whiskers, yawned, exposing yellowed canines, and wriggled the key into the lock. Having finished his morning ritual, he faithfully began his custodial duties.

 

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