Chapter 3- Out of sight but not out of mind
It was the light that woke Noin up, she had left her blinds open and the winter sunlight was right in her eyes, she pulled the covers over her head but she couldn't seem to re-claim her grasp on sleep. Groaning and muttering a healthy amount of not so lady-like language she made it to the bathroom sink and splashed herself with the freezing water. She fitted her feet into the warm and waiting slippers and decided to finish up some preventer paperwork.
About half way down the stack of paperwork a name caught her eye- Mark Tryron. Something was moving just beyond the part of her conscious mind and the more she tried to think of what it was the farther it slipped from her grasp, not something entirely familiar but definitely something she had seen before. After a minute of antagonizing over the name she dismissed it as unimportant and returned to her work.
The work was not unusual; she was to find out as much as she could about this man whose name so infuriated her. She first went to her normal sources but they turned up nothing that was unusual considering she had some of the best connections in both the legal and underworld. After trying for over an hour she placed the paperwork to the side and began to go through the stack of paper.
It was after noon when she finished and she was hungry. She took her sandwich down to the bank of the pond by her house. The pond provided the water for her house and while she had to boil anything she planned to drink it less work then carrying it up the hill herself. The edges were just beginning to frost over and she guessed it wouldn't be another week before the cold weather hit and she would be able to regain the ice skating abilities she was sure she had lost.
The pond had been the deciding factor when she bought the house, when she had wanted to teach Zech to ice skate, a thing he had admitted never trying. But that hope had abandoned her with time just like all her other dreams.
She shook those thoughts from her head and cast around for something to take her mind off him. A name flashed in her mind- Mark Tryon but this time she got a picture with it. It wasn't a face or anything you would normally connect with a name, it didn't even really make all that much sense. She shrugged it off.
She finished her sandwich and decided to walk to the local village to pick up some turkey, aspirin and something else she couldn't remember. She stopped by the cabin to pick up her grocery list and then headed down toward the village. There was a small back road, the only way to and from her cabin and that was the route she walked to get to the village. It wasn't paved and the twin ruts were almost swallowed by the weeds but still visible. As she passed the sign she had made in her months of boredom that told the traveler that they were passing Fisk Rd. she turned left and headed to the market.
She was the town's hot gossip topic, the recluse who lived away from the town and only came in to shop but she ignored the stolen glances and went about her business as quickly as she could.
As night set in so did her depression, it always had. The cold winter nights alone in her cabin catalyzed a series of events that usually left her crying on the floor. She made it through the preparation of her meal with only a quiet seething beneath her calm exterior but halfway through her chicken wing she slumped over and succumbed to the tears. Sweet and salty they splashed down onto her plate as she held her head, palms pressed to the to her ears as if to block out the cruel world pressing in on her.
(Reviews are good, flattering reviews are better and long flattering reviews are best)
It was the light that woke Noin up, she had left her blinds open and the winter sunlight was right in her eyes, she pulled the covers over her head but she couldn't seem to re-claim her grasp on sleep. Groaning and muttering a healthy amount of not so lady-like language she made it to the bathroom sink and splashed herself with the freezing water. She fitted her feet into the warm and waiting slippers and decided to finish up some preventer paperwork.
About half way down the stack of paperwork a name caught her eye- Mark Tryron. Something was moving just beyond the part of her conscious mind and the more she tried to think of what it was the farther it slipped from her grasp, not something entirely familiar but definitely something she had seen before. After a minute of antagonizing over the name she dismissed it as unimportant and returned to her work.
The work was not unusual; she was to find out as much as she could about this man whose name so infuriated her. She first went to her normal sources but they turned up nothing that was unusual considering she had some of the best connections in both the legal and underworld. After trying for over an hour she placed the paperwork to the side and began to go through the stack of paper.
It was after noon when she finished and she was hungry. She took her sandwich down to the bank of the pond by her house. The pond provided the water for her house and while she had to boil anything she planned to drink it less work then carrying it up the hill herself. The edges were just beginning to frost over and she guessed it wouldn't be another week before the cold weather hit and she would be able to regain the ice skating abilities she was sure she had lost.
The pond had been the deciding factor when she bought the house, when she had wanted to teach Zech to ice skate, a thing he had admitted never trying. But that hope had abandoned her with time just like all her other dreams.
She shook those thoughts from her head and cast around for something to take her mind off him. A name flashed in her mind- Mark Tryon but this time she got a picture with it. It wasn't a face or anything you would normally connect with a name, it didn't even really make all that much sense. She shrugged it off.
She finished her sandwich and decided to walk to the local village to pick up some turkey, aspirin and something else she couldn't remember. She stopped by the cabin to pick up her grocery list and then headed down toward the village. There was a small back road, the only way to and from her cabin and that was the route she walked to get to the village. It wasn't paved and the twin ruts were almost swallowed by the weeds but still visible. As she passed the sign she had made in her months of boredom that told the traveler that they were passing Fisk Rd. she turned left and headed to the market.
She was the town's hot gossip topic, the recluse who lived away from the town and only came in to shop but she ignored the stolen glances and went about her business as quickly as she could.
As night set in so did her depression, it always had. The cold winter nights alone in her cabin catalyzed a series of events that usually left her crying on the floor. She made it through the preparation of her meal with only a quiet seething beneath her calm exterior but halfway through her chicken wing she slumped over and succumbed to the tears. Sweet and salty they splashed down onto her plate as she held her head, palms pressed to the to her ears as if to block out the cruel world pressing in on her.
(Reviews are good, flattering reviews are better and long flattering reviews are best)