Her parents named her Gladly.
His named him something but he preferred Donny.
Every Sunday morning, Gladly headed out to read poems to a
blind man.
Every morning Donny tried finishing his novel. Every morning
he failed.
She missed having a friend.
His deadline was near.
Donny wrote on paper, and filled his room with crumpled
pages.
Gladly always carried her green umbrella with her.
That morning when Donny felt useless, he wrote “HELP” on a
piece of paper and threw it outside his window.
When it fell on Gladly’s umbrella, she opened it and read.
Then she went upstairs.
Blue ink. A fleet. Vanishing, flitting blues. Closing lines. Chance street. Red ink. Scribble, shadow and screen. Wisp of day, flies into dazzling eyes. On the wall. Three Pages: boat, umbrella, lighthouse.
ReplyDeleteI like the background :P
ReplyDeleteNotes out of windows are sometimes worth the climb.
Words. The cure to empty pages and empty days.
ReplyDeleteThis story left me with a smile on my face. Here's to many many more! :)
That felt good. Reminded me of new beginnings and young love. Do keep writing. Would like to read some more... Gladly!
ReplyDelete