The first few days at his house passed in just such a way. Early morning breakfast with the family, in the afternoon, someone would suggest an outing and they'd make their way to a lake, or a shop, or a market, or for a short hike to find some flowers or a few boulders with some water running over it that his littlest sister was convinced was a waterfall. She felt the most natural with the girl, Elsa, seven years old. Children were disarming like that, capable of only being themselves, which was enchanting. Maybe the enchantment that adults feel with children is only the loss of this ability. Though she was nineteen and possessed of good looks and some intelligence she already missed being a child.
On the morning of the third day, after an expansive breakfast of eggs and toast covered in hollandaise sauce along with roasted potatoes, she set out with Elsa to hunt for flowers. It was difficult to be parted from David for even a short period of time. She felt that what was happening between them was magical. It was as if a part of herself was connected to him, like a spool and thread, and as she wandered away from him into the thick grass, she felt herself unwinding.
And yet at the same time it was a relief to be parted from him. She had lived for eighteen and a half years without feeling connected to anyone in quite such an oppressive way. How nice it was to walk among the grass with this little girl. They were hunting for butterflies.
"You have to be very, very quiet," Elsa reminded her. Elsa had pig tails held in place by two large white ribbons, but her expression was of a general giving commands at war.
"I understand," Lauren said, smiling once Elsa had turned her back.
They walked through long grass, left a bit wild, running up to her knees and Elsa's waist. The ground was a bit wet, and she knew they'd have to take off their shoes before returning to the house. Her feet made a slight sucking sound as they gathered and released the mud. Elsa didn't necessarily remind Lauren of herself at that age. Lauren had no been so confident. She'd been bookish and mostly avoided visitors by reading whenever they were around. She had been shy by nature. However, Elsa reminded her of childhood none the less.
"Shhh..." Elsa said, holding up her hand. "I found one." The butterfly was perched on a bit of saw grass, bright orange wings expanding and contracting. It was really just a very well-dressed insect. But beautiful. Elsa crept up as quietly as possible behind the butterfly and threw her net out over it. "I've got it," she cried, holding her net aloft, and for a moment she did, but the butterfly, sensing its danger, fluttered wildly about and wound up making its way out of the top of the net and hovering in the distance for a moment before disappearing into the grasses and small trees.
"Why did it go?" Elsa asked, fighting back tears from her fierce little face.
"I guess it prefers flying to being in a net," Lauren said, bending to cup Elsa's chin in her hands. The little girl pulled away quickly and scampered ahead. In truth, Lauren was happy to see the butterfly escape. Who wouldn't be?
On the morning of the third day, after an expansive breakfast of eggs and toast covered in hollandaise sauce along with roasted potatoes, she set out with Elsa to hunt for flowers. It was difficult to be parted from David for even a short period of time. She felt that what was happening between them was magical. It was as if a part of herself was connected to him, like a spool and thread, and as she wandered away from him into the thick grass, she felt herself unwinding.
And yet at the same time it was a relief to be parted from him. She had lived for eighteen and a half years without feeling connected to anyone in quite such an oppressive way. How nice it was to walk among the grass with this little girl. They were hunting for butterflies.
"You have to be very, very quiet," Elsa reminded her. Elsa had pig tails held in place by two large white ribbons, but her expression was of a general giving commands at war.
"I understand," Lauren said, smiling once Elsa had turned her back.
They walked through long grass, left a bit wild, running up to her knees and Elsa's waist. The ground was a bit wet, and she knew they'd have to take off their shoes before returning to the house. Her feet made a slight sucking sound as they gathered and released the mud. Elsa didn't necessarily remind Lauren of herself at that age. Lauren had no been so confident. She'd been bookish and mostly avoided visitors by reading whenever they were around. She had been shy by nature. However, Elsa reminded her of childhood none the less.
"Shhh..." Elsa said, holding up her hand. "I found one." The butterfly was perched on a bit of saw grass, bright orange wings expanding and contracting. It was really just a very well-dressed insect. But beautiful. Elsa crept up as quietly as possible behind the butterfly and threw her net out over it. "I've got it," she cried, holding her net aloft, and for a moment she did, but the butterfly, sensing its danger, fluttered wildly about and wound up making its way out of the top of the net and hovering in the distance for a moment before disappearing into the grasses and small trees.
"Why did it go?" Elsa asked, fighting back tears from her fierce little face.
"I guess it prefers flying to being in a net," Lauren said, bending to cup Elsa's chin in her hands. The little girl pulled away quickly and scampered ahead. In truth, Lauren was happy to see the butterfly escape. Who wouldn't be?
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