FLATLAND FICTION

FICTION WITHOUT FORMULA

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SUMMARY

Jas Boyle upkeeps the memories found between a baseball diamond's first and third base foul lines. Raking the infield and mowing the outfield grass doesn't take all of Jas Boyle's time, and the aging man often still grips a wooden baseball bat to square against a pitching machine. Mr. Harmon hears the cracks from that bat as he approaches that field to tell Jas Boyle that the community of Monteray will no longer require his services. Waiting for the pitching machine to empty as Jas Boyle takes his hitting practice, Mr. Harmon is amazed to watch the older man still send majestic fly balls far beyond the outfield fence - towards the direction of the looming bluffs, towards the direction of a lost era.

MEN WORE HATS