It had been nearly fourteen years, but there you were on my morning commute. On your way to work like nothing had happened. Both of us on our ways to work as if nothing had happened. You looked good ... [+]
Writer, actor, singer, yacht broker, presently living in Boston where he publishes 'About a Thousand Words' his weekly blog on Substack writing about whatever grabs his attention from Aardvarks to Xylophones. You can find his work on, www.FCPierce.com. "Mister Peepers" is in Short Circuit #11, Short Édition's quarterly review.
It wasn't fair. EJ had found him, brought him home, set up a comfy, warm bed of hay in the basement; she'd even named him. But from our first encounter on that cold January night, Mister Peepers only had eyes for me. I should explain that Mister Peepers was a baby chick—a rooster—though at the tender age of a day or so, you couldn't tell by looking at him. And even though my partner had done all the heavy ‘maternal' lifting, as far as Mister Peepers was concerned, I was his mother. He ran to me, peeping joyfully, like a child calling his parent, "I'm so glad you're home." I gently picked up th