beginning
lucy stumps up and down the room. distracting. “terrible this world is, and all in it. shall free myself from this distasteful lot”
a head rises from the pile of books: “but..arent you with us in this world?”
“exactly! i shall set a perfect example.” lucy waves goodbye as she turns and jumps out of the open window. landing uncomfortably in the grass.
“from the first floor she falls and talks again. i am tired of her rumblings.” she hears a voice from the library.
“and i tire of you and your miserable studies.” lucy proclaims, just loud enough for everyone to hear. than stands quickly, brushing off the grass; making her way down the lawn.
“terrible world and in it terrible people. all but one, maybe. him i forgive...”
“and that “him” should be me, than? i assume. hope?” a voice from the huge birch tree sounded. a second and a young man stood next to her, dirty blonde hair, lifting his moldy hat.
“dave. yes, you are the only one worth my time. study doesnt suit me, you know? it dulls the mind. (this studies at least). we should be reading about poetry instead.”
“and not learn about the human body, the universe and math?”
“that too. but secondary. we need inspiration before we can understand that terrible (terrible, dave interruppts and laughs) world.”
“than off you go” dave chases her down the grassy hill: “seek poetry. dont waste your time learning french and counting. its too unimportant to a mind as vast and perfect as yours.”
they share a laugh and lucy speeds down the hill, enjoying the autumn breeze in her face.
the evening is cold and lonely. not without company, but this specific loneliness when no one shares your thoughts. and lucy thought of the forbidden. the unspeakable and unknown. she figured the simple thought of not knowing is enough to satisfy her; for now. french class was a way of passing time. but the better time was spend in the pub down the road. the pub where she shouldnt be but was.
one evening. one pub. drunken man, beautiful women. dance and laughter.
“where is dave?” asks a voice from behind a door. lucy looks for a free seat at the table: ” home! he will come though. soon.”
“and when is soon?”
“whenever he decides it is...”
a brown-curled head appears behind the door: “really lucy, you and your comments.”
she shruggs. unimportant.
someone offers her a glass of water and she takes it. one sip. another. “what a terrible day.”
“is it terrible still?” a question halled from behind. dave. of course. swaying into the room, catching everyones attention.
“it gets better now. a little at least.” she smiles a wicked smile and motions to the seat next to her. he gladly takes the seat.
she wastes a thought on how, for all these years she has known dave, he seemed to appear out of nowhere to aid her whenever life seemed boring or too dull for her mind. he was there in her dreams. outside her dorm door. in the dining hall and in the pub. everywhere she went, he followed.
“tell me lucy, arent we supposed to be home by now? isnt it forbidden to be out in town? and alone at that?”
“it is dave. it is. i am going to visit the graveyard tonight. join me.”
a moment of silence, than muffled noises in the background. daves world turned still for a second, until his breath broke the wandering.
