A bookish woman, Rosie conserved city manuscripts on weekdays and returned to Widget on weekends.
An only child, her mission: to be wooed by the postmaster.
They wandered the cold streets discussing most things, turning back before it was too late or dark.
Reluctantly alone, she’d wend her way to her late parent’s timber-clad shack on the flatlands.
Logging trucks thundered through the wee hours, traversing her dreams, shaking her frame in the small familiar bed.
She lay hoping, but hardly daring to sleep.
Mercifully patient, she waited six months for the question ached to be answered. Eventually, he asked.


2 thoughts on “WAITING IN WIDGET

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