He liked to keep his co-workers guessing.

One day he didn’t shave. They asked him if he was growing a beard.

One day he wore a jacket and tie. They asked him what was the occasion.

When his father passed away, he took the day off for the funeral. After they put the old man in the ground, he drove to his childhood home, unlocked the front door, and walked to his father’s bedroom.

He found the box in the closet under a pile of dirty underwear. He opened it.

The snakeskin cowboy boots were wrapped in tissue paper. They were the right size, 10 1/2. Never worn, like promised.

The next day he wore them to work.

“New boots?” they asked.

“No,” he said. “Dead father.”

A long time ago in Cincinnati, in hopes of enriching his service, a minister built a parlor organ, the first organ ever built in the city. On Sundays, one of his boys played out of the hymnal. Even the Indians, loitering about the streets, came in to see the attraction. The red men sat quietly through the entire service, just listening…

- for a new story, “The Organists”