Quite some time ago, I posted a fictional series on my previous blog about the origin of my engagement ring. Truthfully, we found the set in an antique store in Micanopy, a small town outside of our college town. The woman who sold it to us knew very little about the set, other then when it was likely made. I have always been enamored with history, mostly because I love imagining people's lives and the goings-on during different time periods. The series is still one of my favorite things I've ever written, and for that reason I'd like to re-publish it here. It is entirely fictional and has no truth to it whatsoever, although it is fun to imagine otherwise.
Part I, here.
turned to leave, a handful of supplies in her arms, none of which looked
even remotely useful (or familiar to her). As she left, she fell in
perfect step behind the man with the bright red socks. The closer she
got to her apartment, she worried the man with the bright red socks
would think she was following him. She sat on a bench and waited.
Watching the man, she noticed he stopped at her complex. Her heart
George was determined to fix his own typewriter with
what little knowledge he had of tools and handy work. As he walked home,
he thought about what would happen if he gutted his typewriter and then
couldn't fix it. It was just then that he realized that the sweet woman
with the floral skirt was in close step behind him. He wondered where
she was headed and felt compelled to ask. As soon as the thought entered
his mind, he realized how ridiculous it sounded. Just then, she stopped
at a bench.
Nadine wondered how long she should sit on that
bench before making her way to her apartment. She then wondered how
possible it would be to ask George for assistance with her apartment
decorating. Surely he knew something about handy work if he ventured into
a hardware store. Not the kind to stand on the sidelines of her own
life, she resolved to write him a letter. She would leave it on the row
of mailboxes in the small lobby of the apartment. Surely he would see it
With her newly crafted plan, she walked into the complex and
into her apartment. Sitting down to craft the letter to the man with the
bright red socks, Matilda jumped onto her lap and Nadine patted her
little orange head.
George sat down in front of his typewriter,
gave it one last affectionate pat, and began taking it apart. He
realized it was a mistake as soon as he began.
Dear Man with the Bright Red Socks,
forgive me if this letter is perceived as intrusive. I saw you at the
hardware store today at around 2pm and wondered if you could help me
with a bit of decorating. I'm concerned about the weight of one
particular piece I'd like to hang and was wondering if I could get your
advice. You remind me of someone I once knew.
Nadine (Apartment 3B)The
letter sounded impersonal, formal even. Nadine wondered if it would
come off as such. The last bit sounded out of place and silly, but she
couldn't bring herself to cross it out. She sealed it in an envelope and
took it downstairs to the mailboxes. She labeled the envelope: Man with
the Bright Red Socks. She dashed back up to her apartment, sat, and
George looked at his typewriter. Why had he assumed he
could fix it on his own? He felt a bit dizzy. His dear old, trusty
typewriter seemed to look back at him with sadness. George thought it
might be best to get some fresh air.