An Itsy Bitsy Favor
- 2 years ago
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Play It Again, SamChapter 2: Well, What Of It? It'll Be Out Of Its Misery. free porn video
After we got into the car I twisted the ignition key, dropped the shift lever into drive and then pulled out merging with the heavy traffic. Remembering the small key I drew it out of my pocket and handed it over to Candy, who happened to be sitting 'bitch' in-between Dana and I.
"I found this inside one of Creepy's jacket pockets the night you arrested him. With everything else going on I completely forgot all about it." I told her.
Candy scrutinized the key closely, muttered something under her breath then passed it over to Dana.
Dana carefully examined the key turning it over in her hand then she commented, "It looks like one of those public locker keys."
"Yeah, that's what I was thinking," I agreed. "Airport or bus depot maybe."
"More likely the airport because of the high number stamped on it." Dana said thoughtfully still looking down at the key.
"Seeing as how we're right in the neighborhood what say we head over to LAX and have a little look see?" Candy suggested.
"What about all that need a written warrant stuff?" I asked smugly.
"With all the dirt we already have on this guy whatever we find will probably be insignificant in the big picture." Candy answered.
"Besides," Dana said. "If it turns out to be something, why, we'll just have to pretend we never went there."
Without a word I made the turn that would take us to the airport.
It took us nearly an hour to drive what should have been thirty minutes, and then another twenty minutes to find a parking space in the public lot. As bad as the traffic was Dana and Candy had no idea just how much worse it would get by the year 2006.
We made our way through the airport following the signs to the baggage claim area assuming that would be where we would find the public lockers. While walking through the airport I heard an announcement for the cancellation of several flights to cities in the Middle East, a sad reminder of the 50 Americans hostages still being held in Tehran. We took the escalators and went down one floor to the baggage claim area. Eventually we found the locker that matched the key. I slipped the key into the lock and then pulled the small door open. Inside, taking up only a very small portion of the lockers area, was a single notebook with the words; 'Personal Thoughts' written on its cover.
I took the book out of the locker and then with me seated in the middle and Dana and Candy sitting on either side of me we sat down on three out of the way, plastic airport chairs and looked through the note book.
I opened the cover, and with both Candy and Dana reading along with me we saw on the inside cover, written by hand in fine script lettering the words, 'Caroline Anne Gridley'
The title caught my eye for obvious reasons, then inside the first page starting with the date, 01-15-1935 were several pages of poetry written in the same precise hand as that of the name written on the inside cover and after reading a few of the poems it became obvious from their content that the poetry had been written by a child.
Then several pages later under the date 03-11-1936 this poem:
His urgent voice alarms me. A misplaced child,
mad with loss, his hands like forceps clutch my arm
and guide me through the tousled yard.
Scraggly, untouched shrubs outline our path.
The tomato plant stands out with peacock flare,
its two fat and veiny fruits
sliding into his ashen hands.
He cannot hide his bubbling joy.
I watch ice form inside his eyes.
"These two are like yours," he says,
looking down at my breasts.
Enough time to get through school,
to meet a man and marry him,
the time since we've last seen each other:
half a dozen chalky, sunburned bulbs.
I have no way to convey my past, so I smile.
Perhaps in six more years we can share a backyard again.
I forgive him.
At least once every night, I forgive him.
Then between two pages dated 06-18-1937, was a flower. Maybe forgotten, maybe left there for a reason. But someone, presumably Caroline Anne Gridley had used the book to press a flower, and it still sat there. A small simple flower, its colors faded but imprinted on the page forever. I felt like that one flower held a bigger story then the book itself ever could.
Written under the flower was the word: 'Mathew', followed by a number of carefully hand drawn hearts.
I wondered why it was picked and chosen to be saved. Why was it forgotten? Was it a reminder of love, or just a beautiful thing?
Annalisa
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