I had a much needed time of peace and contemplation, as I
sat by the river and tossed rocks. Weary and heavy-laden was I, but rest was
offered me, and took it I did. I rose from my sadness, and looked about me. The
leaves started to depart from the trees, and float gently on the surface of the
rippling water. It was time to live, to breathe, and not to worry any longer.
I mounted my cheap red Huffy mountain bike, and breezed down the path along the river. I stood on my petals, and flew down a path yellowed by many tiny yellow leaves scattered, as the wind whipped through my hair.
I weaved my way around the streets and sidewalks, around the old brick buildings, and parked my bike against a Victorian style lamp post.
I strolled up to an antique store, and upon coming inside, felt almost immediate tension as a man with a dark complexion observed me. He greeted me hesitantly, and after I had returned a greeting, I made my way towards the back of the store, feeling his eyes on my back.
I thought to myself it might not be very often for a young gal to stroll on into an antique store by herself, and suspicion might have been raised. Often I had wondered to myself if there were any other gals who were as fascinated by those kinds of things.
I wandered to the back of the store to some book shelves. I browsed through the worn and vintage looking spines, and picked up “The Book of Common Prayer” and flipped through it. I read one of the morning prayers, and in my peripherals saw something moving along the ground. I turned to my right, and on the ground was an old pug staring up at me with glazed over eyes, and saw the same man who welcomed me into the store standing off to the side, attempting to look natural and that he wasn’t watching my every move. The pug slinked up beside me, and then wandered around me, and I pretended I didn’t acknowledge him.
I replaced the book, and sauntered through the rest of the store, observing the neat objects around me, and occasionally I glanced into a reflection of a melancholy face, with a tender and deep look in her eyes.
I mounted my cheap red Huffy mountain bike, and breezed down the path along the river. I stood on my petals, and flew down a path yellowed by many tiny yellow leaves scattered, as the wind whipped through my hair.
I weaved my way around the streets and sidewalks, around the old brick buildings, and parked my bike against a Victorian style lamp post.
I strolled up to an antique store, and upon coming inside, felt almost immediate tension as a man with a dark complexion observed me. He greeted me hesitantly, and after I had returned a greeting, I made my way towards the back of the store, feeling his eyes on my back.
I thought to myself it might not be very often for a young gal to stroll on into an antique store by herself, and suspicion might have been raised. Often I had wondered to myself if there were any other gals who were as fascinated by those kinds of things.
I wandered to the back of the store to some book shelves. I browsed through the worn and vintage looking spines, and picked up “The Book of Common Prayer” and flipped through it. I read one of the morning prayers, and in my peripherals saw something moving along the ground. I turned to my right, and on the ground was an old pug staring up at me with glazed over eyes, and saw the same man who welcomed me into the store standing off to the side, attempting to look natural and that he wasn’t watching my every move. The pug slinked up beside me, and then wandered around me, and I pretended I didn’t acknowledge him.
I replaced the book, and sauntered through the rest of the store, observing the neat objects around me, and occasionally I glanced into a reflection of a melancholy face, with a tender and deep look in her eyes.
I still felt the tension in the air, and being the only
customer in the store, felt I had the clerk’s undivided attention. I made way
for the exit, and with the most enthusiasm I could muster bid the clerk a good
day.
I walked over to the next antique store, and upon entering I was greeted by a man’s voice, but not his eyes. I returned the greeting, and left him to stare at his computer screen.
I walked over to the next antique store, and upon entering I was greeted by a man’s voice, but not his eyes. I returned the greeting, and left him to stare at his computer screen.
I let my imagination take me to those times where that sofa would have sat in one’s living room where they would have pleasant and sophisticated conversation, and to the time a charming man would have been talking in the receiver of the phone with a spin dial.
I explored the store, with a bit of a musty smell all about me. The floor under me creaked and croaked, some spots on the floor more than others, and I listened to the faint and slightly eerie classical music playing as I explored my way through.
My imagination and eyes were satisfied, so I bid the man a
good day, and made my way back onto the streets. Cars whizzed by as I crossed
over a bridge. I took in the beauty of the crashing waterfalls to the left of
me. I sighed happily, as I maneuvered my bike through the city streets. I thought
to myself, “A well-lived adventure it was” as I flew, and made the gears on my
bike go as fast as my legs would push them to go.
