I hate when people have to take a picture of themself every five minutes. It is so boring. They are so boring. They need so much attention 

(An aside for Electra; if it were not for our charm I truly believe we would not be here today)

 

The house on the hill continued

She goes through the villege on foot and finds her way through the trees. Peace at last. And forgets the world. She forgets about all which darken her world; she puts aside atrocities and things that are sad but beyond her control ….she stares into green….she lets it blind her, she gives herself up to it, and she says “I am myself,” as she breathes out

She walks through a grove and feels suddenly lightheaded. Was it the water she drank too fast? And berates herself for being an idiot. She looks around to be sure no one sees her as she feels about ready to pass out. She finds the nearest bench and sits ….what happened back there? she asks herself ….breathe…. 

when she looks at her phone to see the time —it shocks her to see it is ten minutes later

she must have ….

So she gets up and casually looks around to see it anyone witnessed her there. And walks towards the center of town. 

She goes into the health food store and asks up at the front if they have any tofu

A man behind her chuckles and so she turns.

Someone with a crate of exactly that is behind her. A delivery person? 

He is tall with that kind of wavy hair that has its own mind. It is gold in the sunlight and eyes like …. she is distracted 

“I can give you a discount,” he tells her and inclines his head towards the door 

She realizes he means to go outside as he seems about to leave with what he has in his arms  

 un marqueur pour une page.  pourquoi cela devrait-il me surprendre ?  comme un boomerang

fais attention, ma douce

 

“I am quite penniless,” she had told him that day at the Red Boar Inn, “so if you are thinking to sink your teeth into some old widow, you should go bark up another old tree.”

He had laughed when she said that but he saw she meant it. She had no time for silly fools, her eyes said to him 

Why did he watch for her from his car? What caught his eye ….once again 

The house on the hill

 

There is an old winding road, called Cherry Lane; it twists like a glorious snake, lined with the most picturesque houses along the narrow lane; cheek by jowl. One like a chocolate box and another something from Architectural Digest made entirely of containers lined up neatly and another beside down always past the rabbit hills is one that looks medieval.

And as the young man drives along the road he stops to wonder about that strange widow. 

As he had followed her here. She drove up the hill. The only hill anywhere around 

He looks now at google maps and tries to determine the property ….what does this mean ….and

he feels foolish now because he cannot get out of his head that silly song ….”on the street where you live….”

And now sits there in his car looking up at the hill where he had seen her disappear in her pale colored car

Another kind of Another Story

How she joined the Widow’s Club

One day she stood stock still staring at nothing. She was on the corner of Wilson’s Street beside the shop that said “Hardware” but there was no hardware inside. 

Was it that which stunned her to wonder if she had gone mad….someone jostled her from the curb ….

“Oh….”she looked up. A crumpled and lost expression fleeted away in a flash as she faked a smile, “thanks.”

For he had grabbed her from getting run over. 

So she kept going down the street deciding to be Gulliver in future. Just accept that all is madness. 

“Excuse me!”

She turned. It was the young man. He ran up to her. 

It was strange. What was he doing there? 

“Uh—my mother was much the same when my father passed away,” he said 

For a moment that madness of suspended belief had her on edge. Then….she accepted the assumption as it was easier than to argue 

“Oh,” she said and took pity on the young man for his kindness. But then she was not sure what he was actually saying so she stood there again stock still; just as before. Lost and crumpled on the corner. Her little raincoat a size too big engulfing her and her hair blown array in the wind as the gusts suddenly were quite strong.

“There’s a widow’s club where I think you may find others like you,” he said

At first this smarted a bit. 

“Ahem ….” her throat caught tight 

“I run it,” he said. A funny expression on his face. “….actually.”

Still she stood there wondering if he wanted a donation? And stared up at him

“Why don’t you come with me? I can show you where we meet—it’s at the Red Boar Inn down the road.”

She laughed,

“oh really, a red bore? Sure, I’ll go see this, as…. yes, the better half has gone.”