I’m late, I’m late for Me Me Monday, so sorry, dear readers! It’s a special Monday, though, an eclipse sort of Monday.
I’ll admit, I took a moment to be distracted, to go outside to look up at the sky.
My husband was more prepared than myself. He had some special glasses, which he handed to me.
I looked up to see a golden crescent super imposed over a black orb. A sight guaranteed to inspire.
I apologize for making Peter, Gabrielle, and Christopher wait for so long. I’m sure they’d understand. They’d all want to watch the eclipse, too. Especially Christopher. 🙂
Here we are, back again with Unwilling to Be Yours, picking up right where Peter’s first customer cut him off so abrasively on Saturday.
More bemused than offended, I went over to the candles. She looked like a black candle kind of girl. I reached for an impressive looking ebon taper.
“That’s not the right one!” she snapped. “Get me another!”
“I’m sorry.” I used my politest voice, trying to hide my confusion. “What color would you like?”
“I don’t care, as long as it’s the right candle!” She stared at me, truly taking a good look at me for the first time. “Don’t you know what you’re doing?”
Apparently not. Just my luck to run into a really difficult customer from the get go. I wasn’t sure exactly how I was going to make her happy.
She scowled, furrowing her smooth forehead into wrinkled stress. Her eyes were a pale gray, almost silver. There was a greenish gleam swimming within her stormy irises.
I turned back to the candles. I realized there was a faint humming coming from one of them. It was fat and gray, with a faint shimmer of verdure to its thick base.
On instinct more than anything, I reached for it. The humming grew a little louder, but I wasn’t sure where it was coming from. As my fingers touched its wax sides, it was almost as if the candle vibrated.
Gaining confidence I closed my hand around it and lifted my choice from the rest. I held out the candle to the scowling customer.
Her expression changed. The scowl softened into a smile, easing up the wrinkles in her face.
“I’m relieved to see you’re not a complete idiot,” she said. “Here’s my usual payment.”
She handed me a cup. It was a battered, metal chalice, like something you’d use in a historical drama.
“Oh, nice!” Gabrielle came forward to take the offering from my hand.
I’d forgotten she was watching.