Absent friends

by SJ Griffin

A person with a pair of red boots and an almost matching jumper, skinny jeans and a bright bobble hat emerges from the mouth of a dark cave at the top of a craggy mountain. She is blinking in the sunlight, rubbing some sort of disgusting crust from her bleary eyes. 

Me: Hello? Hello? Where is everybody?

The gentle wind shifts through a few leaves blown about in a more vigorous storm that has felled some of the weaker trees. 

Me: Hello? (pause) Oh dear. 

She looks around and spotting a small settlement begins to stumble down the mountain side, skidding over loose rocks and sending tiny avalanches down the slopes.

Me: I’m back! I’m back! I’ve finished the first draft now. I’m really sorry I’ve been gone so long and ignored you. But I’m back now. Let’s pick up where we left off? Yes? 

A single spire of back smoke rises from the chimney of a house below signalling a welcome and, perhaps a warm bowl of soup. Hopefully butternut squash with sage pesto and a crusty roll hot from the oven. Maybe chocolate mochi to follow. And coffee. A lot of coffee.

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