Page 9 of Two Canes, One Cup
I recognize that look. It’s his brainstorming drift away.
“Maybe he cheated?” I’m not sure why, but I start typing in a new document as the ideas flow. “She caught him with her best friend?”
“Oh, that’s always a solid plot.” He props his stocking feet up on the table to stare at the ceiling. “What if…” He begins to rattle off more potential scenarios as I furiously hammer the keys.
I’ve missed the buzz of creativity.
The mysterious girl in the cabin seems to have brought it back.
Chapter 6 -Reece
The words flow over the next two days, inspired by the little act of rage we witnessed from the pretty girl across the way.
I’d like to see her again, but she stays hidden in her cabin.
Each morning I’ve made a point of going outside to chop more wood, lingering in case she decides to appear again.
There was once or twice I could almost swore I saw her watching from the windows.
Wishful thinking.
“So where are we at?” I work through a pile of fresh grapes to add to a charcuterie board to snack on while we write.
“I think we’re around the end of act two.” Dean flips through the pages on his screen, then leans forward to deposit his computer onto the coffee table.
He stands with a groan. “I’m getting too old for this shit.” His grin betrays the lie.
We’ve both been loving every second of the newfound surge.
Just like when we were in college.
He drops his elbows onto the island and snags a slice of salami from the tray. “I would be curious—” He folds a square of soft cheeseinto the meat. “—what our neighbor has been up to the last few days. It could lend some depth to this tale we’re weaving around her.”
I pop a grape in my mouth, chewing through the twinge of tart. “Should I just go knock on her door? Ask her about her life history?”
He groans, reaching for another snack. “If only it were that easy. She’ll think we’re a couple of creeps.”
“Like we haven’t been stalking the windows to catch a glimpse of her? Wearea couple of old creeps, Dean.” I point the tip of my knife in the general direction of the blowing snow in the front yard. “And with that storm starting up, the chances of seeing her are dropping. Quickly.”
I’m bordering on obsession over a woman I’ve barely glimpsed twice.
I don’t even know her name, but we’ve fabricated an entire history of her.
Who her parents are, siblings, job.
It’s insane, really.
He turns when there’s a particularly violent gust that rattles the hinges of the door. “Geez. Think she’ll be okay during this?”
I drop to my elbows against the counter. “I dare you to go check on her.”
Dean pauses like he’s actually considering it, then shakes his head. “That would be weird.”
“I’m glad to see you haven’t slipped entirely into the realm of fiction,” I grumble, tossing the knife and cutting board into the sink. “You’re just not used to having people keep their distance.”
“True.” He tugs at the sleeve of his cardigan and scowls. “Did it get colder?” Moving towards the fireplace, he tosses another log in.
“Wind is picking up. It’s going to be a heck of a night.” I can’t help but think about her, alone.
