Winter Season

Inside

The wind whipped down the street in cold December fashion. The first day of the month was turning out to be a bear. He snuggled a little tighter in his coat. He did love winter but could do without the wind unless he was all snuggled into his blanket on the couch. This wind was a knife that cut through his clothes and ate at his bones. It didn’t care if you had on one layer or five; it was going to get you. It was winds mission to bring you down. As he walked toward the moving van he asked himself why on Earth anyone would want to move in the dead of winter.

Oscar walked up the cracked walk way; up the shaky steps and into the cold house. The front door was open. “Hello!” he called.

A female scream came from inside the house. He ran in to find her holding her chest.

When she saw him, she smiled pointing her finger at him. “You scared me to death. I was so intent lookin’ for the mouse I thought I saw in the closet. But gee whiz brother. You scared the life out of me.”

“I’m so sorry. I meant no harm. I,” he pointed out the door. “I live across the street. I thought you might need some help unloading the truck.”

“Shoo,” she panted. “Give me a minute to find my heart.”

Good going Oscar, he told himself. Scare her half to death. Fool! He took in the small kitchen were they stood. It had yellow butterfly paper on the walls. The red and green checkered rug had holes worn in it down to the hard wood floor. There was an old sink up against the left wall and one old cabinet on the back wall. She was standing in what must have been a pantry. That currently she was calling a closet. It was apparent no one had been here for years. A fact he knew. Everything smelt of must and mold.

His new neighbor seemed to be wound a little tight. To get this worked up over a mouse was a bit much. But she didn’t curse him out for scaring her. That was a plus. Her light blonde hair was cut really short. She had plenty of curves. Curves for days, he told himself. Curves a man could get lost in. He didn’t like skinny women. The only thought process he could come up with was because he was so skinny and had spent the last ten years so sick. He smiled despite himself.

Chet’s only charge as far as the house was concerned was to mow the grass, put on a fresh coat of paint every now and then, and fix any storm damage that might occur.

Suddenly it dawned on him, seeing the inside of this house wouldn’t spoil the romance he felt toward it. To the contrary, it fueled his imagination. “I always wanted to know what the inside of this house looked like.” He smiled, not at her but at the house.

Winter Season