Next installment of non-fiction infused fiction.

Emily sat across her uncle at the kitchen table, clasping a cold cup of sweet tea and staring at the lemon slice balancing atop the rim of the glass.  After hearing Uncle Flint slurp from his mug a fifth time, Emily broke the otherwise comfortable quiet between them.

“Ever find out what happened to your boys?”

Uncle Flint looked up from his play book. “Indeed I did.”

Emily took a gulp of her tea and listened to her uncle tell the tale.  Apparently, the special teams coach thought it would be a good idea for the entire starting roster to learn a fifth thing or six about developing tacit understandings and the true meaning of communication.  The exercise, which involved his confiscating their cell phones for an entire weekend, would’ve worked well as the culmination of Spring Break…were it not for the slight mishap of the starting players getting locked inside a commercial laundromat.

“What were they doing in a commercial laundromat?”

“I can’t begin to imagine,” Uncle Flint replied.  “Though, I think  Scotty Gibbons’ family runs one of those places.”

“Why would your special teams coach think up that kind of idea? Could’ve just made them all stand on a rock and stage a mosh pit.”

Uncle Flint shrugged his shoulders.  He was about to ask Emily about her troubles when the phone rang.  He excused himself and took the call in the den.  Emily’s cell phone started barking, indicating that she had received a text message.  Four words: the soldier has gone.

Emily finished her tea, washed the cup, and placed it on the dish rack.  She took a few steps in the direction of the den.  A knock on the kitchen door halted what would’ve been her sixth step.  She whirled around and saw a fair-haired youth in a sweatshirt hoodie.  “University” was emblazoned across front of the hoodie.  She closely examined the young man’s face before deciding she could let him in the house.  Upon entering, the hooded youth took a seat at the kitchen table.  Emily went to the den.  Her uncle had finished his phone call and was studying the play book again.

Emily cleared her throat, “There’s a certain University team captain here to see you.”

Uncle Flint let out a “hoot” and started towards the kitchen, play book in hand.  Emily followed him there, retrieved her cell phone, and left the two to their football talk.  She told her uncle she would be in the guest room and if he needed her to just holler.

“I’m real sorry, Coach,” the captain began.  “We’re all real sorry for not showing up.”

Coach Flint told the boy not to worry.  “These things happen.”