A/N: A short story in a different format. I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter One:
I'm sitting on my porch, gazing out over the water on a picturesque afternoon. The whitecaps tumble over themselves like litters of exuberant puppies in their eagerness to reach the shore. This place is situated at the farthest inland point of a deep cove and by the time the tide makes it this far, the whitecaps aren't so white anymore.
As I gaze out over the azure waters, lamenting the absence of my muse, I'm startled from my thoughts by a soft rapping on the porch rail. I glance up to see deep, chocolate eyes and a brilliant smile framed in artfully designed curls. "Hello," I say. "Come to visit again, have you?"
He nods once as he climbs the steps. It is then that I notice the dark circles under his eyes and the lines of fatigue that furrow his brow and draw down the corners of his mouth ever so slightly. As he lowers himself into the only other chair and stretches out his legs, he asks, "How have you been?"
"I can't complain," I reply. I could, but it wouldn't be half as interesting as what he has to say, I'm sure. "And you?"
He sighs, leans his head back and replies, "It's been hell, this past couple of weeks." Turning his head, he asks, "Gotten any writing done lately?"
I grin wryly. "No. I think my muse wound up in Urkutsk with my rollerboard case." He chuckles softly and we both fall silent, the warm summer breeze caressing our faces. After a moment I ask, "Want to talk about it?"
He's looking at me, I can tell, but I keep my eyes closed and my face lifted to the sunlight, waiting. Finally he leans back and closes his eyes as well. "Only if you really want to hear it," he replies.
"Of course," I murmur. "I love to listen to you, Charlie."
With that, he began to speak…