Vermilyea Road

            Romul banged his closed fist on top of the small 13-inch television as it crackled, the picture changing from color to black and white, jumping every few seconds. He put his face close to the screen, trying to peer through the electronic snow. He wanted to see the weather report; he always had to know the temperature before he left the house. He turned the dial to the right, checking each channel. Some of them looked a little better, but channel 7 was the only one that was playing the news. He moved the two antennas back and forth with steadied precision – his eyes focused as if he were performing major surgery.

“If I had some tools, I could fix it,” he muttered to himself....

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