PERHAPS (A Little Light Reading).

Mr Smith was a curmudgeonly, taciturn widower, who spent his days avoiding people. The only times he left his house were to do his weekly shopping of a Thursday, doctors appointments (not that he needed many) and to walk down to the mailbox. If his neighbours saw him, he’d mumble a hello if he felt like it and almost every question he’d answer with “Perhaps.”

“Will it rain, today?”

“Perhaps.”

“Are you going to see your sister for Christmas?”

“Perhaps.”

His neighbours, however, were caring by nature and a perhaps was a sign that at least he was alive.

There was, however, one day of the year that reminded Mr Smith that he’d been around the moon an extra time. His birthday. Since widowerhood, he typically picked up a store baked cake and ate it over a week, and he looked forward to the card from his sister.

So, it was on this particular day, that he walked down to the mailbox, in his usual summer attire of a polo shirt, crimpoline shorts and flip-flops that he noticed the envelope seemed a little heavier. He opened it to find not just a card but a Set For Life Scratch It Ticket. He even managed a smile.

“How are you?” asked his neighbour.

“Don’t see the point of these, to be honest. But you never know. I could win $5000 a month for ten years, I could take that holiday I’ve considered. I could go and see my niece and great nephew. I could buy a new car. What do you say?”

“Perhaps,” came the reply.