walking the streets as they become familiar, i imagine a face peering from behind a curtain in the tiny round window above the second story balcony. she watches the town. the river. the canal, pass and shift under the clouds of the valley. water fowl call her name in moonlit reflections. they honk and cackle, mimicking the rhythm of the river. calling me to the shore, lulling me to sleep.
i wake with the sun, breaking the dull blue grey of thunder clouds. as the tea pot whistles i know she is already at her post. the shadows of yellowed lace cover her identity. there is no number next to the green wooden door. i have stood at that door, set foot upon the granite step, but i have not put both my feet on the stone.
i think about the coldness of that stone as i pour milk into my tea. i could feel the cold run up my leg, swirl in the bottom of my spine and energize my fingers. a tingle of fear and excitement.
as i sip the warmth of my tea, i try to remember how i know it's a woman. i have never seen her eyes, or her jaw line. i cant conjure her face. it's a shadow, cast over the entire town.
church bells sound in the wind and i tie my shoes and lock the door behind me. i rest the keys in a hiding spot next to the meditation studio and duck into the morning.
caffeine ripens my body to awake and i watch the clouds dissipate and the suns fingers reach to the green of the hills. blue grows as i carry myself to the end of her street. as i draw towards the brick way of her yard a clap of thunder bursts from the bright sky. i stop at the unlatched door and peer in as lightening streaks the daylit sky.
rain tumbles to the earth. clouds thick as steel colored velvet appear and the sun disappears instantaneously. i am standing still in front of the open door. the black paint peeling from the weathered wood. i see green. a massive jungle with blooms drinking the water from the sky. i hear windows shutting against the rain. but i see noone through the pains of glass. there is no wind and the rain falls straight to the earth, soaking my hair, pooling in my shoes. there is thunder above me and lightening, flashes of daylight illuminating the dark quilt of clouds that has hidden the sun.