It started to snow and puffy flakes blow round their bodies. Kiki laughs and jumps more than that it is going. Henry has trouble keeping step.
The happiness of the girl and even the snow seem bizarre and out of place amid the decaying buildings. Hardly a facade has a noticeable color. Everything is gray in gray, swarmed by pure white feathers and a dancing orange swab. Henry smiles.
Kiki turns with outstretched arms until it plops out of breath at his feet in the fresh snow.
"Why are you wearing that?" She indicated with her chin on his gloves.
"It's cold."
"Yes." Kiki nods and keeps her face in the tickling feather. She closes her eyes. "Sometimes I could so cold, I warm myself in icicles. Then I go outside and walk through the streets. And I always feel that I'm looking for something. But I do not know what it is. "
" Then we would both look for something, " Henry says, and picks up the basket, which is upset by her side in a snowdrift.
Kiki knocks off his clothes and go for a while in silence, side by side. Henry wants to ask just how far it was when his eyes fall on a small house, and he knows that they have arrived.
The house has, in the midst of the dreary blocks, like a foreign body. As a holdover from another era. The facade is painted in warm yellow and the red clay tiles pitched roof cover, which remain due to an apparently poor insulation not covered with snow. Hang curtains on the windows and the garden are different shoes. At least fifteen pairs. neatly sorted.
Kiki follows Henry's an astonished look and laughs. "Elena says, if you invite dreams, you have to offer them a warm, dry place to rest."
She shrugs his shoulders and a knowing smile plays around her lips. She says the truth, or at least believes that it does.
"Elena says, people are too ignorant to dream, why so many homeless dreams swirl around the world who seek only a place where they can establish themselves. And she offers them. Elena has enough to fill a football stadium dreams, she says, and that only because nobody else wants them. "
" Dreams are air bubbles, I say to you. If they wants to keep it burst. What remains are only damp stains on the sheets. "
" Then you've just been pressed too much, "she replied stubborn and crosses his arms over his chest.
Henry lights a Marlboro and swallows the smoke with a bitter tear. Maybe he has this He may have crushed them. He stares at one of the pairs of shoes, which stands right in front of his feet. Dark brown hiking boots, similar to those he carries himself.
"I'm sorry," says Kiki, is a step towards him and remains so close in front of him, that they must inhale the cigarette smoke. She raises her hand as if to take his and Henry shrugs involuntarily.
He flicks the butt over the low picket fence and buried in snow. The sparse plume is carried away by an angry wind.
"I will find them."
you enter the house without knocking. Kiki behaves as if it is even here at home. She walks purposefully into the kitchen and turn off in their little white basket on the kitchen table.
The work surface is dirty and find the sink piled dishes. Stuck on the floor juice or coffee residues. Henry soles make smacking noises when walking. Over the window niches, mildew, and depends on the discs formed a yellowish Veil. Kiki seems not to notice anything, or get used to it.
"Sit down." She says as she throws her jacket and gloves on the bench. "I'm going to look for Elena."
The house can have maximum of four rooms in size. "Wide, it can not be yes." Replies Henry, shrugging his shoulders.
"It should not be deceived by the superficial, Elena always says." Kiki winks conspiratorially and Henry can just stand.
He sits down on a white plastic chairs. He is infinitely tired. It is warm in the room. The air smells stale and can breathe only reluctantly. Somewhere hums a boiler. The tap is dripping sporadically. Slow dissolves a drop of water from the spout, still stuck firmly a split second, is elongated, frees himself and rises, shimmering rotating around its own axis, rusted into the faucet. Klack. Henry rubbed over the face and squints.
The shutters maltreat the wall. A miracle that the weathered wood can withstand the pulling and hitting. It has stopped snowing. But the wind blows the loose powder snow in front of him, scares and chases after him until he clings stoically in niches and joints. Then there is silence. From a water drop on the other the storm. The wood from the Windows groan with gratitude. The sun breaks through the puffy clouds and snow are the sterile white a touch of liveliness. Henry longs to snuggle up in one of the freshly shaken snow beds and pull the covers over his head.
White can have so many nuances. Walls, old white-plastered, interrupted in places by dark scratches and cracked at the corners. Bedding that sad white, the cotton gets, if stored for years in closets. The desolate white in this furrowed face. Skin, reveals more than it concealed, and only waiting to finally break allowed.
"Why did it brought here? "
Elena digs on the night table drawer, until he pulled out a syringe and a packaged needle.
" He needs help. "
"And that is reason enough?"
"For me it is this"
The old woman beheads a small glass tube, and draws on the clear liquid. Kiki waiting in silence while she pushes the air from the syringe until a drop of shows and hang swaying from the sharp needle remains.
She nods. "Good. Then shall be sufficient to me. "With practiced fingers she pinches her stomach together to an almost transparent role and sets the injection.
" Thanks, "said the girl and kisses Elena directly on the steep folds between her eyebrows.
Henry looks at the kitchen clock. The single pointer rests on the seventh. He has been dozing, until he startles a rhythmic deep rumble. It sounds as if approaching a marching band, whose drummer musicians the clock for a funeral march pretending. Surprise - step. Surprise - step. The sound, at first directly under his feet, now comes up the stairs and near the kitchen.
A drop of water that had been on his way to the tap remains hanging in the air, shaking and falling, in slow motion, back into the drain.
The woman must be old in the 70 years be. You may also 100 Hard to say. Your body is emaciated, old-fashioned long dress hangs loosely on their limbs. She limps and is based on a crutch. It can be awkward on a low plastic chairs, pulls out a gold snuff-box and a wooden flute from the large apron pocket of her dress and begins to stuff meticulously.
a match and keep the small flame lit his pipe. After some trains covers a sweet flavor to the musty smell. A gloomy veil lies over the iris of her eyes and explains their nervous movements.
Kiki behind Elena. Your hands resting at home on their bony Shoulders.
"So you are looking for someone?" Asks the old woman with a voice that seems to be even older than her body. Brittle and rusty.
Henry nods. He wants to see if she has lost her eyesight completely or partially lost.
"You think you're a very clever lad, eh?" Instant your right arm, like a cobra, forward and bite their nails in his hand, which is loosely on the table. Her dusky pupils fix his gaze and she sees him not in the eyes, but behind it. After a few seconds, she gives him free. She leans back a groan, pulls her scarf tighter around his shoulders broad Kiki's hand and pats.
"I can not help him." Snorted contemptuously
Henry and leaves on the lid of his lighters and click.
"Elena, please." Kiki gently kneads the old meat on the bones brittle. Elena relaxed visibly and some puffs smoke rings in the wait-and silence.
"Many walkers are met, but few can tell of him." The old woman beats her crutch in her right leg. Plastic on plastic. A soulless noise. A slight tingling sensation creeps over Henry's neck, and he flexes his muscles. "You can not find it. He finds you when it's time. " She knocks her cold pipe on the table. "If you are looking for answers - if you're really looking for - then'll start to look within yourself."
© Simone wedge 2009 Read
next -> Dream Catcher - Five
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