Mar 15, 2010 17:02
When I wake, I know the fountain by the hedge door needs to be cleared. It is old and broken, and it needs to be fixed. I pull on jeans and a sweater and hurry down the stairs into the gray light of dawn.
I've forgotten my shoes; my feet are cold. Even so, I set to work, pulling stones and clearing weeds. It is hard, difficult work.
When the door opens and a tall, broad man with skin that fairly shines in the dawn light stumbles out, I know that being here had nothing to do with the fountain.
drabble,
sir justin,
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