The mailbox

It's a hot, hot day. Unusually hot for this climate of moderation.

Susan has decided to walk down to the mailbox even though she could have taken the air-conditioned car. She should have taken the air-conditioned car. No, if "it" comes the walk back will give her time to clear her head. Each step is a tiny prayer. "Please come, please be there."

Of course, she is not a virgin. She has taken this walk countless times before. She refuses to count them. She doesn't what or need validation. She knows she's a big loser.

"Why does she do this to herself?" Any sane person would ask.

The question has floated through her brain. She can't deny that. Is she sado-masochistic? No, it's worse. She is a hopeless romantic. She believes in happily ever after endings. One day - someday it will be there. Today could be the day.

All too soon the walk is over. Ready or not it's time to face cold, hard reality. She searches for her keys. Why are they always at the very bottom of her purse?

Copyright by Leanne Dyck July 24, 2006

Log on tomorrow and hopefully I will have found an ending.