VIRGIL WANDER BY Leif Engle
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Can this thing possibly fly? Bjorn asked? I wouldn't bet against it. Now, he did lay his hand on the kite cautiously. Just his finger tips as though exploring voltage. He took his hand away. What is he doing here, Mister Wander. It's pretty straightforward. I think he wants to know what he missed. Pier and gave an agitated laugh. Well, that's an easy one. Everything until now. That's what he missed. Dad's whole life. What's weird is thinking you can go back and retrieve it. That store is closed. If I can understand that, why can't he? Is it so terrible, Bjorn having him around? He's strange. But he's generous and he's interested in you. You're his grandson? The yawn looked weary. I barely remember dad. He's been gone since I was seven. I was just starting to think about what's next. Get out of Greenstone, find some work drive someplace. Then this old guy pops up, goes to the lookout every day flying his weird ass kites. No one can walk past him without saying hi. You know the way he is. So now dad's on everyone's mind again and what dad did or didn't do. Depending on how wishful you feel? He spoke with a groan forbearance. How does your mom see it? I asked not like me. He replied, he almost said more. You could see his currents moving behind his eyes, but thought better of it and opened the fridge. Could I have some milk mister Wanderer? Help yourself? He filled the glass, drank half of it and topped it off before putting the gallon back in the fridge, watching him drain the milk all elbows and limbs and skinny neck. I have a melancholy thought that what Bjorn needed in managing the loss of his dad was, in fact, a dad.