Aaron Walters had it all; lived very comfortably in an expansive luxury penthouse atop one of those desirable downtown glitzy condo towers, possessed the right education credentials to get to know influential people who willingly opened those invisi...
Tina wasn't present when I awoke and I could only ponder where she may have disappeared to, what she could be doing or when she might reappear. Of course she was an independent wild creature in every sense of both adjectives and under no obligation whatsoever to me or my schedule, but this undeniable detail didn't prevent me from wondering about her anyway.
In this same vein too I was independent, living alone and rather set in my own ways and schedules, of course subject to the seasons and weather, but reality and circumstance reminded that I wasn't under any obligation to her in spite of the fact I had been responding as if somehow I was. If anything, her more frequent arbitrary appearances in my home were becoming increasingly disruptive as my work and activities were interrupted more often. Thankfully the harvesting was finished and I had no farm animals to care for, so at present, life afforded me more wiggle-room for that little wriggler.
Of course my mind was abuzz replaying those incredible scenes and unusual conversations we had shared last night, and for these same reasons I had slept somewhat fitfully. Perhaps my subconscious was working overtime in an attempt to decipher some of Tina's strange statements.
"I wonder how she regards everything that's happened." I mused as I slid out of bed, having first checked diligently prior to setting both feet on the floor.
Before heading downstairs I returned that pillow she had used back to the bed in case she chose to revisit to her perch, because if she discovered it had been removed I didn't want her to feel she wasn't welcome. This said, somehow I would have to broach that subject of her unkempt hair and the unpleasant smell.
Sunrise was near so the kitchen wasn't completely dark by the time I shuffled in half-awake to start the morning coffee. In hindsight I probably should have turned on the light but I wasn't in the habit of doing so when I didn't think it necessary; I knew where everything was.
Last night I hadn't turned-on the central heating furnace thermostat and right now this old house was rather sleep-awakening cool. After getting the coffee percolator going on the gas cooking stove, I turned my attention to the large but still useful white-enamelled and coal-black cast-iron wood stove.
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That antiquated, smoke-leaking and ceiling-dirtying monstrosity was a throwback to an age long gone, but it had come with this elderly farmhouse. In time I discovered its rather charming qualities and unfailing reliability, only because it was ancient enough to predate every type of electricity-based technology, Edison's included.
The only immediate change I made after moving in was to disconnect the plumbing, because regulating the temperature of water heated by circulating through a wood burning stove was impossible; burned skin aside, when a roaring fire was going something about snorting scalding steam coming out of the taps instead of warm water just didn't sit well with me.
