Walking around her neighborhood, Mirany was struck by the quiet. Where was everyone? It was like the morning after a very tidy apocalypse, all traces of humans gone.
But the creatures were out. The Weston’s one-eyed cat Henry was perched on his favorite blue Adirondack chair. Squirrels were already in play mode – like a group of sugared-up children, chasing each other around a giant oak.
Mirany liked squirrels, she collected them. Not real ones of course, not taxidermy ones, but little knick knack squirrels: a pair of brass squirrel candle holders, a porcelain squirrel, a hand painted squirrel with it’s mouth full of acorns and a few other objects. But she didn’t want to collect too many squirrels, she didn’t want to become that woman: dusty house crammed with collectibles, old green shag carpeting, corduroy recliner covered in crumbs, kitchen shelves crammed with Entenmann’s coffee cakes.
The autumn leaves were their most vibrant saturated selves. Mirany loved the pumpkin hued shades the best, but that didn’t mean she loved pumpkins. No. In fact she was suspicious of those who drank pumpkin spice lattes – had there ever been a more revolting beverage?
Parked ahead was a vintage Volkswagen camper. Peeking into it she saw two young people, maybe early twenties, curled up together under a Pendleton blanket. Very sweet. Until it’s not sweet and their young love blows up in their smooth, wrinkle-free faces.
A couple of goth-y crows squawked at her from a sad looking tree, it was practically bare, just a few leaves dangling from its branches. Mirany thought of Alfred Hitchcock’s movie “The Birds:” what if the crows attacked, gouging out her eyes and eating her eyeballs for breakfast. She crossed the street and quickened her pace.
Still no one else out and about. How odd. Mirany tossed a few pieces of candy corn in her mouth. She loved candy corn. She loved candy corn so much that at Halloween she bought it in bulk from Costco so she could eat it year round. But she had rules, Mirany had candy corn rules: she was allowed only seventeen pieces per day.
Somehow there were still a few glorious flowers blooming – “global warming flowers” Mirany thought to herself. She liked the giant coral ones, they were practically as big as her face. Mirany wondered if the owners of the house would mind if she took one. She decided that flowers really were God’s work and that she was allowed, quickly plucking one and hiding it in her cardigan.
What a lovely morning.
sparkledame 