Mid-morning
and it has stopped snowing, and with the last posting dates for Christmas
imminent a young couple are wrapping presents that have to be posted either
this afternoon or tomorrow morning at the very latest if they are to arrive in
time at all.
cog:
Where’s... This is their old address here.
cog:
Oh yeah, ehm... Their new one’s on the card. It should be on their card.
cog:
Right. And where’s that?
cog:
It’s in the window, the one... I think theirs is the one with the little
church on it.
cog
(checking the cards in the window): Oh for fuck sake...
cog:
If it’s not there then try the back window, I know I
cog:
No no, come and take a look at this. Look.
cog:
What? Oh God what’s she up to?
cog:
I have no idea. That’s kind of sad really, I mean...
sighing
cog:
..that just makes me feel sad. I know eh
They
are momentarily distracted from their Christmas preparations by the appearance
of the woman who lives across the street. They watch as she kneels in the fresh
snow drifted up alongside her house, her head’s odd bobbing as she looks from
the blank white sheet of paper in her hand to the snow, back and back again
perhaps a dozen times before returning inside.
cog:
Do you think her son will be up for Christmas this year?
cog:
Yeah I expect so, I mean, it is Christmas... Does he still w- your guess
is as good as mine.
cog:
I think he, well, the last time I spoke to her she’d said he was working as a
waiter or something in a restaurant, but eh, you know we should say
something when he comes up, you
cog:
What, do you think he doesn’t know? I mean, what if he’s as mad as she
is? What if, right this second now, he’s limping out of his restaurant
into the snow with a piece of paper in his hand? Jesus. But eh, I know
what you mean but...
cog:
Well. I suppose all we can do is just keep an eye on her as much as possible,
you know, just make sure she’s she’s, as long as she’s looking after herself
and everything.
He
sighs again and shakes his head, picking up the Christmas card with the little
church on it.
