The Mail Slot Flyer

I eased the wooden clothespin away from our front wheels, rolling the red wagon out from beneath the shoe shelf. On the floorboards by the front door lay a glossy paper circular that had dropped from the mail slot. Pulling our cruiser quietly onto the page, I brought it to a halt beside a color photograph of a cream-colored Ford Falcon sedan. Its chrome horizontal grille mirrored my bobby pin front end almost line for line. Kneeling on the polished wood, I rested the wagon handle against the paper and studied how square and honest the car looked in print. Beneath the stick deck, my acorn held the fifty cash completely flat in calm approval.