A Taste of Spring

Spring mistakenly disconnected the call before Troy could get out what he wanted to say. She groaned as she came to a stop.
Feeling guilty as she stared at her cell phone, she thought to call him back. Her finger hovered over the send button. She was
lowering her finger when she glanced away from the cell and something caught her eye.
On a display case directly in front of her was...her.
Suppressing a squeal, Spring grabbed the issue of Time for Us magazine and studied the image of her and Brandi. She looked
so different than her current homely appearance, dressed in short shorts and a small T-shirt with her hair no longer in braids.
Spring had a bounce in her step as she pulled her cart to the checkout line. She placed the magazine on the conveyor belt first
then piled the rest of her items on. That she hadn't finished her shopping didn't even register with her.
"Hey," the cashier said as he held up the magazine, "this kinda looks like you."
Spring smiled as she pushed loose hair from her high bun behind her ear. "You think so?"
How she got from the market to her apartment, Spring didn't know. Who she passed on the walk, if she spoke, or even how she
got inside the door with her key, was a mystery. But as she jogged the groceries to the kitchen with the magazine safely under
her arm, she continued to float on cloud nine.
"Summer!" she called out. "Summer!" The sound of a loud thud then footsteps barreling toward her didn't even register.
Coming to a sudden stop in front of Spring, Summer's eyes were wide and she was breathless. "What happened?" Her sister's
gaze swept over her with keen interest.
Spring held up the magazine. "I'm on the coveeeer!"
Summer frowned then focused on the magazine. "Oh...my...gawwd!" She grabbed the magazine then stared down at it.
Spring gasped but didn't try to grab it back.
"You made the cover," Summer whispered. She looked over at Spring. "You made the cover," she said a little louder. "You Made
the Cover, you beautiful bitch!" She cried out as she started jumping up and down.
"I Made the Cover!" Spring yelled as she jumped up and down in unison with her.
-----------

DEZMOND
His heavy door weighed on his arm as Dezmond listened to Mrs. Marcum, an elderly woman who liked to vent to him about their
neighbors in the building. Today, she went on and on about how she thought that someone must have a dog in the building. He
tried to say his goodbyes whenever she offered an opening in her tirade to take a needed breath, but the opportunity was short
and she kept talking.
"I'm tempted to call the management company again. I've left three unreturned messages already," Mrs. Marcum huffed.
"Hey there, Libby," Dez called out as he nodded toward one of the other neighbors on their floor. Libby Hughes, a young
executive who lived alone, was nice enough. According to Fallon, she was really nice.
"Well," Mrs. Marcum said, looking over her shoulder, "I will talk with you later, Dezie. I have to catch Ms. Hughes before she
disappears. You can never catch that one."
(Talk?)
He didn't even engage, and she saw that as them talking.
Mrs. Marcum started to step away but turned back. "Oh, I almost forgot." She placed a stack of magazines on top of his box from
the bakery downstairs in one of the ground level shops, "These are for you and your fellow." She scurried off, catching Libby
before she could make it to the elevator.
Dez flashed a sorrowful grin at Libby. She shot him a quick look that said that he was on her shit-list before turning her attention
to Mrs. Marcum.
He giggled as he pushed his door fully open. Libby would do something to get back at him but he wasn't too worried. He would
just have Fallon pay her one of his special visits.
Inside, Dez placed his dry-cleaning that hung precariously off his two sore fingers on a hook on the inside of his front door. He
tossed his keys into the junk bowl on his foyer table then locked the door. Walking further inside, Dez placed the bakery box on
his dining table.
His ringtone, the end credits theme to one of his favorite Anime shows, rang out before the cell vibrated. Dez glanced at the
screen before hitting the answer key. "Hey, Pop."

"Dezmond, my boy. What's a seven-letter word for cumming together?"
"Try, arrives."
"Nope...try again."