R. was walking through the field to the residence entrance.
Pink shirt, red face.
Helping a colleague/woman friend carry luggage.
Martha? Matilda? Martina . . . Navratilova-like hair.
Margaret Hamilton on a good day.
After all that work, she decided to move to the inn.
R. and I ate meals together. Friendship blossomed.
Unceremonious reflections. Howls of laughter. Immediate lockstep.
We were in the same Oxford tutorial.
After dinner coffee in the middle common room.
Jet-lagged. left early.
Big mistake.
Afterwards I was shunned by these ‘friends.
I never knew why.
No seat with them for me in the dining hall
where Dr Seuss once ate.
Is this middle school?
I Grieved. Mourned. Lamented. Suffered. Pined.
Wept.
A friendship lost.
Never regained.
(I recently sent R. a copy of my book, for layered reasons. Rain Dodging‘s seed germinated in our Oxford tutorial.)