Finally relaxing at a genuine bakery with a New York staple buttered roll! What took her so long to find this place especially after all the times she’d walked by it over the past couple of years! It said bakery in the name. Didn’t it click? Thank goodness the light finally came on. She had to laugh remembering all those days pining for something she thought no café offered, not no way, not no how, nowhere in town, wishing, wishing…wishing leading to exasperation, that burst of energy leaving your body though annoyance keeps its grip around your shoulders. “Where does that energy go? Huh… living energy… anyway…” All their sweet junk, gooey iced scones – blasphemers! Of course the cappuccino was American size, which meant a small soup bowl-mug with too much milk, but it was good enough not to need sugar sprinkled over the top not that sugar on the froth was a bad thing. What Ruth could taste of the coffee wasn’t bad at all, not bitter at least like other places served, nothing to bring a tear to your eye. It sure wasn’t New York but it’d do until that cataclysmic event when all would change … Leave it to a significant event, an apocalypse to mess up being able to stop for a buttered roll. “Maybe it could miss the bakery like tornadoes do, changing the path and leaving the place alone? Asking too much? At least they’ll keep making them for now. Real butter, mmm, good stuff.”
It felt like plastic netting only soft. She sensed the ridges on her skin and heard “zzzip” like rolling ‘rrrrrhs” as she passed. “Spiders.” Glancing up she saw the web wasn’t damaged but glistened in the sun in a fine rough-edged sheet. A movie scene flashed through her mind of walking through seemingly harmless web and the hero’s back coated in tarantulas. “Poor things wouldn’t have a leg to stand on with this one” didn’t stop her from running her fingers through her hair and shaking off her clothing… just in case. No trespassers. She kept walking enjoying the not-too-humid-yet coolness.
He came to pick up his son. At the daycare the front doorbell rang but she was busy with the two year olds in the back room. He stood in the doorway she looked up surprised, and glanced him up and down as he did her. “We’re dressing alike. This isn’t good. He must be some kind of freaky.” Then she laughed to herself at the thought. He’d made a pass you could say the very first time she saw him running his hand along the remnant of her waist uttering a quiet rich moan as he passed her on his way to the back. In fact she could have laughed out loud at the delicious scenario, the wrestling match. “I’m an alpha. We’d argue about who’s in charge. Could be fun. He thinks he’s an alpha with that collection of concubines he’s attempting to accumulate.”
“She’s an alpha.” She heard. “She needs more love than any others.” He stood at the far end of the classroom signing his son out. He looked back. Looking ahead but just passed him she caught his full image. “Dressing alike pastels and white.” She smiled and walked toward Little Hercules, one of her favorites for sure, who’d taken the plastic broom and bent the handle close to in half. He was concentrating trying to get it to flip up and down…
“It looks as if the plant has grown except it’s plastic. There’s no way.” Millie had to laugh at herself. The plant seemed changed and the plastic jewel in it caught in thickened vines but the only way that could be was if the Cory Catfish had moved it further down into the decorative foliage as it nuzzled around the tank feasting on the scraps of fish food that’d settled toward the bottom. “Striped fish aren’t that ambitious.” The water was the clearest it’d been since they’d bought it. How could that be with a three-gallon tank and tiny pump? Something mystical this way comes?
Very good question but it was a ten-gallon tank now, new pump that wasn’t strong enough in her opinion, a second catfish to keep the first one company and the fish, all of them, had gotten fat. “Content fish too well fed I think. Could stand a bigger tank though. Where was I, yes, War, Darkness, Metal and Fire… don’t forget that, I have to breed another dragon.” Millie sat back half looking at the screen as she played the game the other eye on her typing. Interesting that a Grim Reaper attack can wipe out a Pure Dragon. “Not very pure maybe… also have to get enough gold to do some serious mining.” She had two new islands that needed to be cleared and decided to spend some gold on that. As she progressed in levels it becomes harder to, well, more expensive to buy islands. Not in gold that’d make it easier but in gems that are harder to get.
“I don’t know. Time for an espresso I think. Hope my stomach can handle it. Usually the flu doesn’t bug me – bug, it’s a bug and to bother. Somebody stop me.” She read everything over one more time. “What else? Oh, plug in the iPad.”
We’re supposed to be getting back to work after the holiday but the roads just aren’t busy. It’s as peaceful as Christmas morning in a heavy snow, that mysterious silence. Hmm… it’s not completely impossible the world ended and I slept through it. I mean, I wouldn’t put it passed me. Let’s see what outside looks like.
Well, I’d written that just after Thanksgiving and intended to add to it as a good morning type of post but I let it sit there, had a couple of thoughts about what I’d do with it possibly tying it in with something else I’d written, but ultimately let it sit there. I have to say that driving to return something at a store the other morning it was still desolate like something had gone wrong. My imagination went to ‘driving in an apocalypse’ although I think from another post I’d proven conclusively through statistics the Grim Reaper could wipe out an apocalypse and save humanity from that. Living in a college town when students are gone there is a big difference but not like this. One or two cars on the road, and it was the kind of cloudy that gives a post nuclear winter ambience. You know what I mean? I thought to myself people must still be recovering from New Year’s Eve celebration. But by January 2nd it should have been bustling, well, at least with those of us who still live here.
Maybe this can go somewhere. Let me think.