Alice watched as her husband stabbed his shovel into the earth just as the sun was beginning to rise. She sipped lemonade as he dug deeper and deeper, a sly grin on her face. As it grew closer to noon he put the shovel down and walked over to the porch, and she offered him a glass of lemonade.

“Almost done,” he said. “The well should be ready sooner than we thought. What’s that smile for?”

“You’re digging in the wrong spot.”

Fiction writer. Coffee enthusiast. Writer of romance, mystery, and humor. Discover more at and

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