She Always Knows

Once upon a time, Nicky and Mike over at We Work For Cheese thought of running another month-long writing challenge.

As soon as Max completes repairs to the Time Pyramid and hauls it back out of drydock, I’m going to travel back and have a word with them about it.

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The lounge is empty, silent, and there’s a quality to the grey light drifting indolently through the windows that I would struggle to photograph.

It’s been a rough day, for a number of related reasons. None are especially important individually; they're just frost on the doorstep. But cumulatively they make for a nasty snowball full of twigs and chunks of ice.

The smell of sunflowers heralds the arrival of Abbey, my neighbour. She peeps around the door, her locks freshly redheaded, a big smile on her face.

The room lights up to her, and I offer her my best smile in return from the sofa. But I can see by the way her smile crinkles into kindness that she’s not fooled by my eyes for a minute. She never is, she’s a perceptive and caring lady.

She steps into the room, crosses the dusty carpet on bare feet, and flops down next to me. Her gathering hug is gentle and determined, and despite myself I’m wrapped in her arms and scent, listening to her heartbeat, before I know it.

She know, she always knows.

A haven is not a place, necessarily.

I am warm, safe and cared for, and everything’s going to be okay.

The location isn’t important.


This is dedicated to a friend who always keeps me sane and safe.

Indigo

This blog entry is protected by copyright © Indigo Roth, 2013