Cracker Warmer

by

Blaine Arcade

(estimated reading time: 12 minutes)

At sixty-three it was the oldest thing out there, living or inanimate. The house behind was only forty-two. Everything older was off in the dark woods, grumbling, bundling up for the whipping wind of another late November night. The device was ready for anything, having weathered plenty of Cayuga winters already.

It was little more than a circular ceramic tin with a frayed cord tail, plugged into two more cords to make sure it could stretch from the counter outlet in the kitchen, under the closed front door, and out onto the lawn next to the three folding chairs with their legs buried in the snow. It gave off no light, and the faint smell wafting from it, like biscuits sun-mummified and siloed, was dragged away by the wind. Still, the three men were drawn to it. Continue reading →