She kicked through the orange leaves, their crunchy response somehow reassuring. How far was it? Five miles? Yes, she thought, five or nearly that from her deserted car to who knew where. A balmy fall evening had wandered seamlessly into the dawn of what promised to be a replica of the day just past – warm with a whisper of cool undertones. How could she sit at home on such a day? So before the sun had barely announced it’s presence, she’d hopped in her old Pontiac. She’d tossed her favorite merino wool blanket into the back seat along with a turkey sandwich, an apple, and large bottle of water in an insulated lunch bag.
Just that week she’d been accused of being (gasp) boring. She knew she shouldn’t pay attention to an accusation coming from someone she barely knew. Who knew where that co-worker’s opinions came from? The worker’s own insecurities, no doubt. Still, it had bothered her enough to lead to the day’s impromptu outing. And, really, her usually preferred choice of sitting at home on her reclining lawn chair reading a book could stand a little shaking up. The little duplex she called home was a sanctuary to her, though. The other side of it hadn’t been rented for years which was just fine with her. In fact, she’d never laid eyes on her landlord. A rental company had shown her the place, and she simply mailed her rent each month to the address provided. The peace and quiet suited her.
The trees seemed almost luminescent as the sun’s rays nipped their red and yellow leaves. The miles had flown by on the untraveled country road, and she didn’t care. Why should she on such a day? She turned last minute toward what appeared to be some decent hiking trails. And they were. Decent. But a few miles’ hike was suddenly enough. She was ready for a quick picnic and drive back to the little duplex she called home. After all, anyone who thought she was boring didn’t know squat about her cozy sanctum.
She made quick work of her lunch, and turned her key in the ignition. Her car’s whine grew louder with each effort and then stopped altogether. She rubbed the tender spot where she’d bumped her head when she’d lifted the hood of the car and peered at the engine. Who was she kidding? She had no idea what to look for. Everything always looked the same when it came to cars. She squinted at the sun and guessed the time that was left before dusk.
to be continued . . .
Image: wikimediacommons.jpg; blanket: Pendleton-usa.com