The Next Afternoon
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2026 by Walter Reimer

Prompt: guest


“Bob, Bob, no, you’re leaving and that’s final . . . yes, I’m serious . . . Yeah? I gave you breakfast, and that’s more than you deserve after last night . . . I know you didn’t mean it, but ‘sorry’ doesn’t water the plants . . . Look on the bright side; you get a jump on the post-holiday traffic. Right, call me when you get home. Uh-huh, bye.” The hare closed the front door, set the deadbolt, and sagged against it theatrically. His ears semaphored as the sounds of car doors slamming and an engine starting could be heard. “Well, that’s done,” the hare sighed.

The coyote, still seated at the dining room table and poring absorbedly over the op-ed page, nodded absently. “Usually, your cousin manages to get through the entire statistical three-day tolerance period for visitors. As it is, he’ll be headed home a day early.”

The hare, satisfied that his cousin had driven away, sat opposite the coyote at the table and poured another cup of coffee. Adding sugar to the beverage he said, “Everyone in the family knows that Bob gets the whisky goggles, but I never expected he’d get drunk enough to hit on me last night.”

The coyote glanced over the edge of the paper. “Well, considering how you were dressed and how drunk Bob was, you can’t really fault him for putting two and two together.”

The hare paused and looked down at the white blouse and light tweed skirt he was wearing, and his ears dipped as he acknowledged the truth of the statement. Thanks to a moment of self-realization a couple months earlier, the hare had been dressing in a manner he felt was more comfortable for him. “I’ll call him later and apologize,” the hare said.

“Wait till he gets home and calls you,” the coyote advised. “And look on the bright side.”

“What bright side?”

This time the coyote lowered the newspaper to the table and took off his glasses. “Thanksgiving.”

The hare’s ears went straight up. “Oh, yeah.” The coyote’s uncle, aunt, and two preteen nephews were invited for Thanksgiving dinner. By the time they’d left the larder had been largely emptied, the hare’s game console had been broken, and the coyote’s Uncle Jasper had fallen asleep on the couch during a football game. What he’d left on the upholstery had required a lot of cleaning.

Both the coyote and the hare were contemplating buying a new couch when the post-holiday sales started.

“Still, we’re always happy when they arrive,” the coyote said with a slight smile.

“And we’re happier when they leave,” the hare finished, and the two shared a laugh.



end