The light oil dripped delicately into his hand as if he had purchased it the day before. Miraculously, his mother’s preservation technique had worked. The volatile solvents in the oil had been preserved by the tight-fitting lid of the Mason jar over a score of years. He sat cross-legged on the floor and oiled the stiff leather of the glove with Neatsfoot oil for an hour to make it supple again before leaving the house in search of guys his age who liked to play baseball. He had enjoyed Baseball immensely as a youth and had never had time to play after he had left his mother’s home to go to college. He expected to have a grand time re-experiencing the joys of his childhood without having to worry about work or deadlines.
Little Doubting Thomas Scene 62
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