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| Photo via FB, with thanks here. |
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
How many cups of Gloria's tea?
Robert Apotienne tried to calculate how many cups of tea he'd poured and savored since arriving in Billington's Cove. His math skills were top-notch and still he found his totals wandering, distant from each other as stars. It had been a simple brain exercise, a way to include The World of Gloria in his thoughts without being entirely Gloria-focused. It was not a simple exercise at all, it served no purpose other than to unsettle him, so he chose to think of Gloria: her laugh and her handwriting. There. Two entirely different things, distinctive, individual yet not too creepily personal. He hated it when his foot trod on the border of unsavory obsession. He was, and not just by his own definition, a gentleman of the old school - the really, really old school - and he was committed to a certain gentlemanly standard of imagination and behavior. It could be called an impediment to progress but there it was. His story and he was stuck with it.
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2 comments:
"her laugh and her handwriting" - how lovely. I would ponder on her scones and her peacefulness. And find it just as impossible to calculate the number of cups I drank, but to be totally aware of the magic of Gloria's and Billington Cove.
Erin - I suspect, though he told himself it was just her laugh and her handwriting, that scones, peacefulness, style and many other aspects of Gloria waltzed through his thoughts. xo
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