Doyle Carver

The Last Big One

Dale drove down the overgrown drive to a house he could just barely see. Glimpses of the lake flashed through big old oaks on either side of the truck. He slowed a little to savor it, remembering his fond envy for the place. Not in a mean way, no, nothing malicious at all. He just wanted to live in a place like it someday. He smiled at that thought knowing down deep it might not happen. It was just too special, too individual. He would have to buy his own, or make his own, or build his own, not just step in here and take this one. It wasn't his to possess and he knew it. Somehow he felt the place knew it too.