I grunted. Stupid ladder. My hips protested each step. I was too old for this. Mable was going to be wrong this time for sure. As a retired Memory Caster, I knew the difference between clear and cloudy.
The day I met Mable was as clear as glass. She spoke to me first, no question. I looked up. The sky was a beautiful blue, but I wished the projection worked from the bottom of the tree.
Finally. I watched the scene unfold. Dag’nabit! Laundry duty for another year! Perhaps I should concede defeat. Her memory was better. No! Next year…