Only the feverish night sky bore witness to the arrival of the visitor as he descended from the artist palette sky, as if standing in a glass elevator, and landed in a field. A cow mooed softly nearby. The visitor regarded the creature with only mild interest before setting off towards the stone wall that separated the field from the village further down the single-track road, a briefcase-like hold-all in his right hand.
With hindsight, the early days of the relationship was the best time. Always in each other’s company, the constant touching and exploring. Being the main focus of your love’s attention is a wonderful feeling. She would hold me, stroke me and gaze at me. I felt special, like it was her and me against the world. I even tried to communicate with her, sending a message of love, but she didn’t recognise the number and got a bit freaked out. I didn’t try again.
He steps out of the house, mindful of the crumbling front step that cost him a week’s stay in hospital last winter. He ought to get the thing fixed but he hasn’t got the money to pay for some cowboy who would only make it worse. If the thing eroded even more he could always start using the back door, but that would mean being under the nosy gaze of the old trout across the way who sits perpetually in her living room, staring out of the window at everyone and everything. Still, he could always raise his middle finger to her; give her something to gossip to her equally prying friends with. And he’d get a chuckle from it, to see how flustered and offended she’d get.