Maybe it’s my overactive imagination, but I feel strangely like a round yellow fruit. Pink in the middle, full of life-force juice with a sharp tang that often leaves a bitter aftertaste, wait that’s not me, the bitter aftertaste. I’m so full of sunshine and vitamin c, great for the body and soul, but certainly off limits to anyone on cholesterol-lowering medication.
My friend emailed me to ask if I was ok. Thank you for that, you are a true friend. I promised a lighter post and I need it right now. Here goes:
Within the sunshine there lies a hint of rain…wait…no…don’t go there…
Breathe the way you learned at the Tata Centre last weekend.
He jingled his keys, waiting patiently for the door to open. It didn’t. The doorbell didn’t bring a response. Knocking lightly, then louder and louder. Pounding now, his heart racing. Where could she be? No response. He turned away, then thought he heard something inside. He pounded again, tried the bell. Nothing. Reluctantly he returned to his car, started to scribble a note, scratched out everything he wrote. The neighbours were watching. He left slowly, hoping against hope she would appear in the window. Was it over? Did it happen? He wasn’t quite sure. He felt blank, empty and alone. His imaginary world disappearing.
Inside, she tinkered. Rolling around, fixing things and straightening up. She heard the bell, the knock, the pounding. If only she had arms or legs, she could have made it to the door. She thought about rolling down the stairs but knew she still wouldn’t have been able to reach the lock. And even if she could, grapefruit can’t talk.
That made me feel better. I’m taking Mandy for a well-deserved walk.
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