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| 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.”
