On this dreary day, Thea wrote sitting in the tub, her favorite place for creating stories. Writing allowed her to sink into another world while candles lit the steamy room and bath bubbles glistened.
But Thea’s story was side-tracked when a knock at the front door roused her from the fantasy world she’d created of knights and lasses and a well-spoken dragon. By the second, louder knock, she dried herself off with a towel, grumbling that she could have stayed in the tub another half hour.
The third knock was obnoxiously insistent, so Thea pulled on her jeans and sweatshirt and stomped to the door.
“Yes?” she asked, irritation noticeable in her tone.
“Dorothea? Dorothea Clark?” the young man asked. Since he was dressed like a chauffeur, Thea presumed the extra-long black Cadillac in her driveway was his.
“May I come in?” he continued, staring at her as if she was his long-lost mother. Thea swallowed at that thought. At 42, she could have a son this age. In fact, she did have a son this age – one that she gave up before she even noticed the color of his eyes.
“I don’t invite strangers into my home,” Thea replied holding the door tighter. His eyes were blue and his longish blonde hair curly. Thea touched her damp hair, which curled around her fingers.
The man’s Adam’s apple moved up and down in nervousness. Perhaps he’s a fan, Thea decided. As a bestselling novelist in the fantasy realm, she had many, particularly young people.
“I need ….”
His face fell in confusion, blonde eyebrows shifting toward his long, straight nose.
Thea touched her own straight long nose, then pointed: “You’re holding my book, Dragons of the Night.”
The chauffer raised the book in front of him as if wondering how it got there. Then he turned it around, pointing to the photo of Thea on the back cover.
She peered at it, wondering why her publisher choose to use a decades-old photo. Her face was wrinkle-free then, blue eyes laughing, one hand moving a wisp of hair away from her forehead. On that hand glowed a golden ring that Thea no longer wore – the one engraved in the center with the words, I Live.
When Thea swooned, he caught her.
All that happened, more or less, on the last day Thea ever wrote in the tub.
Photos thanks to Pixabay.