Page and the lion II

 

Blazer/Shoes: Thrifted, Shirt: Gap (Thrifted), Jeans: Walmart, Belt: Nordstrom Rack, Earrings: Etsy

Thanksgiving is tomorrow. I have a long list of things I am grateful for; my job, school, my body, my brain. The last two days the weather has been very mild. I expect to take more advantage of the sunshine by going on walks and soaking up some vitamin D over the next few days. During the between walks parts of my day I am going to bake and read and watch movies and snuggle and cook and clean (but not too much) and generally enjoy the "good life" with my love Nick.

I asked him this morning, as we slept in, if he thought Thanksgiving break would always be the wonderful holiday it has been for us these past two years or if it would wind up being me awake at 6 to put the turkey in the oven. He said no, so I am writing this as documentation that if one of us, in some distant future life of ours, needs to get up and begin cooking, it's not going to be me. :) 

Anyway, I hope you are tucked in a warm house, whether or not the weather is as lovely as mine. This is the part two of three of Page and the Lion. This is dedicated to my little sister Grace. We're a lot alike; especially in terms of books and writing.

Tell me what you think. Does it kill you that there are parts or does it feel too long for a short story? 

Page made no effort to conceal the room behind her when she opened the door. Looking the

person over critically who stood in her doorway, Page said “I suppose you’d better come in too.”

The man appeared as surprised as Anthony had been. Looking at the girl before him the man

hemmed and hawed, “Uh, well . . . perhaps I have the wrong address. What did you say your

name was?”

“I didn’t,” she said smiling. “But it’s Page. And I think, judging by your outfit, that you have

found the right apartment. So do come in.” Page opened the wooden door, scraped on the outside

and gold filigreed on the other.

The man was dressed in a khaki outdoors suit with tall black boots and a whip coiled at his hip.

This must have been his formal wear because everyone knows that lion tamers wear bright-

colored tank-tops and striped pants. With a bald head and a thick black mustache that curled at

the ends, it was right away obvious that he was a lion tamer, even if he wasn’t properly dressed.

It became even more obvious when, after looking around the spacious living room, his eyes

narrowed when they rested on the lion. “Tony!” he shouted. Most people would have just

shouted “Lion!” and then run away. Instead, the lion tamer stepped inside the doorway.

“Yes, yes, Tony, as you call him is here. But please come all the way in and stop shouting. I

don’t want my neighbors to wonder what’s going on,” said Page.

“What is my lion doing here? You have stolen him!” roared the lion tamer.

“Of course I have not,” Page replied calmly. “And as for what Sir Anthony is doing here, he was

just about to answer that question when you interrupted, but since you probably have your own

side to this story, you may sit quietly until he is finished and then I will hear you as well.” This

was said with such noble bearing that Anthony nodded in what I assumed was approval.

“Well, I never –” started the lion tamer.

“Quite so,” Anthony cut him off. “As I was saying, I was kidnapped as a young cub by Porticus

here,” he motioned toward the lion tamer with his nose.

“Kidnapped you, did I?” thundered Porticus.

“Well, what would you call it?” asked Anthony.

“You asked to come with me! Wanted to visit my world, you told me.” Porticus was pacing

the length of the living room, gesturing wildly. (It was no wonder he was in the entertainment

business; he was very entertaining to watch when he was angry.)

“Yes, visit. Not stay for ten years and never see my family again and play at being a ferocious

lion forever!” These last words were roared back by Anthony.

“Well, why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to go back?” Porticus asked.

“ I tried, but you never listened. You were too worried that you would have to go back to being ‘Tic the stable-cleaner’ instead of ‘Porticus the Lion Tamer.’ Besides, it’s not like you could send me back even if you wanted to.”