Samuel Reed Kept an Old Wooden Bat Behind the Pantry Door for Twenty Years
He was in his shirtsleeves and a silk tie, and he checked his gold watch on the way out like the walk was costing him something.
“Samuel.
This is a surprise.
Come up, I’ve got coffee on.”
“I’ll stand here.”
He put his hand on the rail and his eyes went to the truck bed, to the bat lying there, and came back to my face.
“That’s a strange thing to bring to a conversation.”
“It’s a strange thing to have needed.”
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