Tessie D

I was listening to the news on the radio in my office. A plane crashed yesterday in New York. Everyone died. More than 200 people.

I got up and went into the kitchen to get some water when I saw Mrs. Olsen and Angel sitting outside on the picnic table underneath the big tree. The screens were open on the windows, and Angel’s back was to me. Mrs. Olsen asked him why he was still unmarried. With his family’s connections, surely there was a nice young girl from the metroplex who he’d would want to marry someday.

Angel said that he’s not interested in marrying someone from money or with expensive tastes who wouldn’t be content with living on the farm, raising children, and living far from the city. He always imagined that his future wife would be someone who’d appreciated the simpler pleasures of a quieter, slower life. Someone who wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty and work alongside him and who’d never been especially interested in material things but appreciates simpler pleasures. Someone who was natural, good, and unspoiled. Who didn’t care about material possessions, fancy cars, and clothes. Mrs. Olsen said that if he stuck around here long enough, she was sure he’d find that girl.

I went back to my desk and turned up the radio.