Jealousy
I watch him possessively as he readies himself for a night out away from me. I know in my heart he would not leave me, but fear lurks in the shadows of doubt at the edges of my thoughts. I resolve to follow him. At first this is easy. I remain about 20 feet behind just out of his peripheral vision. We move through crowded streets into the heart of the city. He turns down an alley. When I get there I see only garbage cans and fire escapes and puddles of unknown liquids. I follow the alley to an empty dark street. The newspaper office stands silent with bits of paper drifting in a cold breeze. I walk to the doors and find them locked. I walk around to the loading dock which is empty. No trucks or newspapers to deliver.
I wander back to the street. On the opposite sidewalk some slouching, lazy looking characters scuffle. Their harsh voices and scraping shoes echo in the canyon of the street. One of the smaller one notices me and says, “Hey what’s this,” in a slow drawl. The other heads come up and their shadowed forms turn slowly in my direction. I know enough not to run. They move across the deserted street in a spreading “V”, The one in front sizing me up as the others circle around.
“What should we do with this little kitty?” he says eying me to see what kind of sport I might provide. “Shall we eat it? Or just play with it a little?”
I am in a constant state of assessment. Should I run? Stand my ground and try not to betray my fear? Or should I simply collapse and curl into a ball and shut my eyes? I know that running is not a good option.
The Ancient Explorer
Captain Haratio Zanzibar rose from his couch. A feeling of utter exhaustion of the soul enveloped him. His body felt old. He looked in an oval looking glass surrounded by an elaborate golden frame. He saw an old man, white maned with sad eyes. He tried to recall the dream that just left him, but only the vision of white tents puffing gently in a warm breeze that drifted across a vast dunes of tawny sand. He knew the place well. In his youth he had explored the region and made his name their.
“Meredith!” He shouted with a sudden impulse.
“Yes dear what is it?” her voice drifted in from the adjoining room where she was reading a book of poetry.
“I think it’s time to see the desert again.”
“Do you my dear?”
“High time. I’m growing old here,” he spoke decisively as he moved hands clasped behind his back toward his wife.
“Well if you say so, dear. I am up for just about anything.”
“Jolly good!”
“You had better have Perkins ready the tents and make the arrangements, dear”
The Captain bustled out of the room to do just that.
The next day the Captain stood before the long almost black wooden crate that held the bright canvas tents rolled like unwritten parchments. As he looked them over he had a thought that this would be his last expedition. He would never return to this place. He was growing younger with each order he gave or item he inspected. By the time everything was prepared he would be a young man again ready to surmount any obstacle or deal with any sticky situation that might arise.
