Patterns

My stepfather doesn't have much to do during the day. He shuffles from one end of the house to the other, puffing on his cigarette.

Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. Puff. Puff.
Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. Puff. Puff.
Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. Puff. Puff.

I remember it well from the days when I lived at my parents' home. My sister still lives there; she also doesn't have much to do during the day.

"It drives me nuts!" she yelled down the phone to me this morning. "Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. Puff. Puff. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. Puff. Puff. Oh my gawd, I'm going insane!"

"You know, he's going to do that when he's a ghost, too.".

Peals of laughter. It broke up my sister's mood. I actually meant it seriously.