Free WISHBONE by Brooklyn Hudson

coming up now, Mr. Grenier.” Big Eddie gave the universal “stay put” hand signal, not wanting Julien to attempt to haul the desk on his own; Julien had no plans to try. Both movers had spent the better part of the day speaking to him loudly, using hand gestures and communicating as though he were deaf.
    Julien found humor in their ignorance and didn’t bother to let them in on the fact that he had been speaking English as his predominant language for the past twenty-one years.
    The two men entered the barn. 
    In the loft, K.B. glanced around. “Yeah, this is the shit, man. Wish I had someplace like this at my house.”
    “Fuckin’A… Get the hell away from the wife and kids,” Eddie agreed. Their hardy laughter echoed throughout the barn. 
    Big Ed raised his volume once again, turning to Julien. “HE SAID IT’S VERY NICE HERE.” He nodded emphatically and flashed Julien the okay sign.
    Julien could not resist, “Oh, merci beaucoup.” He leaned closer to big Ed’s towering frame and amped up his accent, “I thought he said he wants to do your wife in here.”
    Neither Eddie nor K.B. was sure if they were being made fun of. Both men stood dumbfounded until Julien turned to the loading doors impatiently. The movers shrugged and got right back to work.
    Within fifteen minutes, the desk was up in the loft. Julien, overlooking his fear of heights in the excitement of it all, attached the new basket to the hook and lowered the pulley back down. One haul at a time, he and the movers hoisted the entire contents of his office into place; Julien unpacking each load as the men made trips back and forth to the truck. 
    “That’s the last of it,” K.B. announced while sliding a file cabinet against one wall.
    Julien paid the men, but remained in the loft as they descended the ladder. He had his work cut out for him if he wanted the office completed by the time the sun went down. He stepped back, eyeing the desk. He gave it a slight push to the right and then a few inches forward until it sat perfectly in the exact center of the opening of the loading door; his chair back to the ladder; he could sit comfortably at his desk and take in the expansive view. He took a seat, feeling the smooth roll of the castors against the newly-finished floor. Smiling, he leaned back, the seat rocking gently as he folded his arms behind his head, taking it all in. 
    The moving truck briefly passed through his view and he knew he and Rachael were finally alone on the property. He thought about his wife; surely busy unpacking the house. He still had frequent moments when he wondered if she might relapse. She had improved day by day, since they first came to see the home— almost too quickly . She was doing well for now, caught up in the moment; if she needed him she would call. He would continue in the office and leave her to her tasks. 
    He had planned to look for freelance opportunities with local advertising firms in the Albany and Schenectady areas, or perhaps to start a small agency of his own. He was anxious to try out the satellite internet service that was costing him a small fortune and get his search underway. He busied himself, hooking up the computer and hoping to catch the sunset before Rachael would call for him.
    By the time Julien looked up again, he had absently missed the sun disappearing behind the mountains. The loading doors exposed a dense blackness broken only by a speckling of stars decorating his lacking view. He must have been up in the loft for hours. He checked his cell phone—no text or call from Rachael. His computer was on, the cursor flashing eagerly on a stark white document. The screensaver had kicked in releasing dozens of computer-animated bubbles floating across the monitor. Behind them, three typed words, which read…
    Savor the flavor
    He looked at the top of the screen for a document title, but it was blank. He thought he might have inadvertently opened an old document, but he could not recall