A Saturday featuring the grandmother picture and a cuckoo clock dreaming to become a tree

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
The memory of a great love.

Submitted: September 28, 2015

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Submitted: September 28, 2015

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I would hear her coming down the service stairs. Every morning at the same time. I remember that for a while I kept forgetting to set up my alarm clock. A frequently recurring dream was constantly waking me up. I wanted to climb to the attic and give her a bouquet of fresh wildflowers, but the steps kept adding painfully and I was crawling to her door with all those butterflies clinging to my eyelids, my lips, my chest and I’d wake up, almost smothered between my sheets, while she was flying faintly by my door. Ever since, I was forced to renounce my phone… I first got a call from my second floor neighbor (a sergeant’s widow who would bring me cherry pancakes every now and then) to ask me not to hide from her the fact that I’m in love, because she had read all the signs and she’s never wrong… ‘’No wonder she likes you… Three rooms, hard wood floor, your salary… I’ve seen you’ve bought a new tie, you thief you…The departed, who’s been a colonel in the old army and landlord of this building would have never…” The whole street began to call and ask me: “Say, mister, who’s this… lady from the attic, that’s bothering everyone with her bugs?… How dares she? How…?” For a while there I kept hoping that the phone would someday ring, and I’d hurry up to pick it and… just before I’d say “hello”, the VOICE… “Good morning, sorry to bother you. Have you – by any chance - found a blue wing resting on the service stairs?” After a couple of weeks, the landlord’s committee “invited” us to a “Special Meeting regarding the pressing matter of the girl from the attic”. ONE. Who is this girl? TWO. When and where she came from? THREE. Why is she here? AND – LAST BUT NOT LEAST – as suggested by the widow from the second floor: who does this floozy descend from?"... ”We must take course, comrades, before it’s too late!” .”Give’er over to the cops!” "Let her rot in jail, the rotten skank!" "That’ll knock her sense into her." "Goddamn parasites!" "To the firing squad!" "To the firing squad!" "THEFIRESQUAD!!" (It was around the time I started being late for work) "And enough with all the… lepidopters and all that blue!"... I knew she always left for the autumn, but coming back during the summer, with the same wildflower-bouquet-and-her-blue-trail-of-butterflies. This time she left much too early. Silence fell again upon our street and building. My second floor neighbor resumed to bring me strawberry pancakes… I kept remembering to set up my alarm clock and – BLUE became utterly forbidden! No harm done. A summer... How much is a summer?... And another summer went by… And then another summer. And another… And a…? Sometimes, very early in the morning...


© Copyright 2018 Cornelia Alexoi. All rights reserved.

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