This entry is part 3 of 3 in the series Adventures in Litter Bay

Coheed was awakened by the sound of children’s voices rising up from the park below his one bedroom apartment. “Lemonade Lemonade Lemonade!” they yelled. “Lemonade Lemonayyde Lemonade,” came their little boys’ and girls’ voices, some breaking into scratchy urgent little girl and boy screams, “Lemonaaaade! Lemonaaade! Lemon-aay-aay-ade!” He looked over at the clock; nine-seventeen. Ten minutes later it had not abated. “Lemonade Lemonade Lemon-aay-aay-ade.” He pushed the covers aside and reached for last night’s blue jeans and t-shirt that lay carefully folded on the chair at the foot of the bed. Coheed was habitually tidy, no matter the hour or his condition.  He took [Read More]