Classified Ad

As I’m searching the newspaper before I use it to light the wood stove, one classified advertisement diverts my attention. Call me. I need to hear from you.

There’s a number. I recognize the area code for eastern California; I’m across the border in Nevada, trying to keep warm in a tin-roofed cabin on some rancher’s north forty.

After I finish my coffee, I pick up the phone and dial.

“Hello?” It’s a woman’s voice.

“Howdy, I’m calling about your ad.”

“Hi. I’m lonely. I needed to hear another voice.”

“Cowboy. Me, too.”

It really wasn’t a very long conversation.