Secretly, Bud had collected postcards from the garbage left at the dump. He would never be so bold as to read a personal letter or check the bank statements of the residents in town. But he thought that there was no harm in taking and keeping picture postcards. After all, these were meant to be read. He would look at the pictures on the front whild he sat up on his stool at the dump. He would imagine what it must be like to visit someplace exotic and warm. He often wished he could show the pretty photographs to his wife. He wished that he would have taken Linda to one of those places before she had gotten cancer and died at the age of 44. The postcards made Bud feel happy and sad at the same time.

Exercise 95, writing outside the story.

I decided to describe events preceding the story. While I had an idea of who my characters were, I liked how this exercise really carried some details home for me. It was fun letting myself go and the words really poured forth.

When Tina was last home, she stayed for one week. She had planned on staying longer; she actually had good intentions on staying with Bud, her dad, for maybe a couple of months. After living in Florida for a couple of years and not finding decent work, she wondered if life in Grayling Michigan really wasn't so awful. At least during the summer. She could party anyway with some of her friends who had never left. The winters were far too bleak for Tina and she felt terrible after the first gray days of November and tumbled into some kind of moody stanglehold for the rest of the winter. She couldn't put her finger on it exactly but knew that Coco Beach was better for her in the winter, regardless of not making any real money.
Bud hadn't expected to see Tina that dark sopping wet March afternoon. But when he returned home from the dump where he had worked since being laid off from the lumber mill 15 years before, he found her sitting on the stoop. She had grown her hair out long and wore only a t-shirt under a thin black leather jacket. She looked cold and cupped her hands around her mouth to catch some warm breath between drags on her cigarette. Bud found her looking masculine and hard and was glad that his dead wife couldn't see her looking this way. But still he was glad to have her home again. This was his only child and they had had a deep attachment , as least for the years before she went to high school.
The two of them sat together at the kitchen table over coffee and talked about what Tina had been up to since Bud had last seen her. He asked about the rose tattoo on her shoulder. She explained that it meant nothing really, it was just meant to look pretty. Bud thought that the blue black ink with the splotch of deep red petals looked ugly. He was of the generation when only sailors and bums got tattoos. He decided not say anything. He decided to be quiet about many things he was thinking. Maybe if he was gentler with his daughter she wouldn't be in such a rush to leave this time.
Bud Bud couldn't be quiet for long. She drank too much, smoked too much, swore too much, stayed out too late, and didn't get up early enough. She didn't help around the house and he was tired of seeing her "ass" parked on his couch all day. He announced after 5 days that if Tina couldn't live by his rules she would have to go find a place of her own, in town.
Tina decided that it wasn't worth the B.S. and packed her duffle bag. She was going beck to Florida that night. She told him that she would need money for the bus to get out of his hair. Bud had moved the cash he kept in the house from his sock drawer to just inside the crawl space the evening she appeared on the stoop. She had taken from him before. He had exactly $185 and gave it all to her. She took the bills awkwardly and left.
Bud didn't realize it, but he fell into a deep depression after this for several months. Though no one noticed.

Week 4 - dialogue

As he pushed open the glass door of the post office, Bud saw Marilyn behind the counter sorting pieces of mail.
"Well, hello you." Marilyn called out. "How's every little thing with you, Bud? Things okay down at the dump?"
Bud thought about what to say to this woman who he'd hoped to bring home someday. He decided to tell her about the garbage bag of dead racoon babies he'd found and how the stench was still stuck up in his truck. Marilyn told Bud she'd seen some new skunks around her woodpile.
The door opened and Bud saw that it was Della Borden. She and Marilyn had been school mates. He knew a conversation between these women may take awhile so he decided to take the newspaper from his back pocket and settle in at the end of the counter until Della collected her mail and moved on. They grew up in this small town and never left, never thought otherwise.
"Della, how's every little thing?" Marilyn askced.
"Oh fine, the doctor told me I got high blood pressure and when these pills he got me on settle in'a my system , I think I'll feel a lot better". Della shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Della noticed Bud. "Hey Bud, I heard Tina's come back to town. That right?"
"Uh huh."
"She got her husand with her?"
Bud hung on the word husband for a moment. "No," Bud replied, never looking up from the paper.
Della raised her eyebrows, swallowed a belch, and snapped her attention back to Marilyn. "Okay, let me see what bills I got today."
Marilyn handed over a small bundle. "There you go, Della."
"All righty, I better go, I gottta git home, 'fore it gets too hot. See ya, Marilyn. See ya, Bud." Della shuffled out with beads of sweat forming over her lip.
Bud watched her leave and folded the paper back up and slipped it back into his pocket. He walked down the length of the counter toward Marilyn, sucked his breath in hard, and asked her if she would like to come over later for dinner with he and Tina.