Two Birds, One Stone

   "So, did you ever get that job you wanted?" Mrs. Gasthlee asked, the smile of a kind old grandma stretching across her wrinkled face. I shook my head. "Unfortunately, no. They had already filled the position by the time I got to it. I do have a lovely little studio of my own now, though. And so far that's been working out splendidly. Fingers crossed that it stays that way." I smiled. Mrs. Gasthlee chuckled, obviously pleased by this response. "I always told your mother you'd end up starting something up on your own. You've never liked working for other people. And what do you know? A bit of time and some frustration later, here you are. I imagine that she's so proud." She cooed, reminding me of what I imagined an overly affectionate pigeon would sound like.

I smiled and nodded, taking a sip of my drink and deciding it was probably best not to mention that I had been disowned when I left the cult my parents thought of as their second family. I had never really fallen for the 'love and god will see you through, so put your trust in us' slogan that those people had spouted out any chance they got, but my parents absolutely had. And when I didn't want to be a part of that anymore, they had thought of it as me rejecting my religion and joining 'the other side', which had been a loose term they used to describe anyone whose belief differed from theirs. And to some extent, I supposed that was true. I didn't quite know what I believed in anymore, and I probably wouldn't for a good few years. But that didn't matter. I was just glad I had gotten out alive.

"How about a slice of pie, dear?" Mrs. Gasthlee suggested, breaking through my thoughts. "That would be lovely. Do you need some help getting it?" I asked, half rising to carry plates to the kitchen or dish up dessert for her. "Oh, don't worry yourself about that. I'm not so old that I can't reach the top shelf of the fridge." Mrs. Gasthlee laughed, waving her hand in a dismissive little flick. I shrugged and picked up the two empty plates and the utensils that went with them, still smiling. "Alright, then. I'll just help you clean up." I responded, refusing to back down. If I was going to be crashing here for the night until the roads cleared and I could get back to my city apartment, I should have at least done something nice to make up for it.

Mrs. Gasthlee chuckled and started for the kitchen. "You always were too kind for the family fate dealt you." She said over her shoulder. I stood still for a moment, puzzled. She had only ever had good things to say about my parents in the past. Perhaps she recognized more about the unfortunate circumstances I had grown up in than she was willing to let on? If I was being honest, that would make a lot of sense. She had always been cunning and witty enough to get whatever she wanted, even in her old age. I hadn't been around to see much of it, but I could tell from the hint of intelligent light in her eyes that not many other people had the same kind of mind that she did. She was certainly someone unusual. I just wasn't particularly sure how deep that odd glimmer went, or what caused it.

I shrugged to myself and headed for the kitchen, where I set the dishes in a little bin my host kept in her sink for plates and things that needed to be cleaned. As I ran some water and a scrub brush over them, I caught a glint of movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked up, a little startled, and examined the world beyond the winter-frosted window. Snow lay in banks along the sides of the house, piling up high enough that they blocked out a portion of the glass. But past that was a stretch of lawn that could have held an olympic marathon, dotted with pine trees and covered in ornaments celebrating the season. After that was a road covered in thick sheets of ice and more snow, then a wooden fence stretching as far up and down the road as you cared to look, and an open field covered in snow that was watched over by a sky of twinkling stars beyond that. My car sat on the side of the road in front of the house, where I had let it rest after failing to get it running in the cold weather. It was a beautiful scene. And one that should have stayed still.

After a long moment of watching the snow and trees in search of the movement I had noticed, I shrugged to myself and twisted the sink knobs into silence. It was probably just some snow falling off the branches of one of the pine trees. Or an owl hunting for a late-night snack in the darkness.