wally's lament.

[ 3 ]

⫸ Dearest readers, apologies for the slightly slow start to the story. I promise, it will get more interesting with these next couple instillations ;)

⫸——⫷

Your walk back to the motel with Wally was mostly full of him chatting about all of his friends in town. There was Frank, a very smart fellow that loved butterflies. There was Julie, a very cheerful gal that loved to get on Frank's nerves with her joy. There was Barnaby, Wally's best friend (whom Wally claimed was a dog taller than himself, but you would have to see it to believe it, even after seeing Howdy's strange appearance in the grocery store). And of course, there was Howdy, the shop keeper that always saved the most delicious apples for Wally himself.

Wally truly did have a beautiful voice. In another life, one where you were not constantly worrying about a group of strangers coming to take their revenge on you for escaping their clutches, you might have liked him. You could imagine watching him sing in a musical, or sitting down to dinner with him at a fancy restaurant.

You wondered what food he would like. Apples, certainly, but aside from that. Sushi maybe. Or steak. Steak and red wine in a fancy restaurant with a white table cloth and cushioned seats. Wally seemed like he would like red wine, and fancy cushioned seats. Maybe jazz music would be playing in the background. He would probably stare at you across the dinner table while you took a sip of whatever drink you had ordered, that content expression smeared on his face making you feel like you were the only person he ever wanted to look at — or making you wonder if he had roofied you.

You blinked. What an odd daydream.

Then, suddenly, Wally asked about you. "So, Charlie, where are you from?"

This question struck you because you did not know how to answer. You did not anticipate how small this town would truly be and, therefore, did not prepare a full backstory for any questioning bystanders like Wally. You were just going to have to make something up on the spot. Thankfully, the motel was only a little ways away now, so you would not have to pretend for long.

"I'm from Michigan," you said, smiling at Wally. An easy lie. "The upper peninsula, to be specific. It's beautiful up there in the summer. Weather can be pretty bad in the winter, though."

"Why did you come visit us?" Wally asked.

"Well... I'm looking for a new home," you said.

"What for?"

His eyes never seemed to leave yours, even while the two of you were walking. "A change of scenery," you said.

"What about all of your friends? Your family? Did you have to leave them behind?"

"Well, yes. I left everyone behind," you said. "But I told them why I was leaving and they understood me." You paused, looked at him with an eyebrow cocked, then continued, "Why are you asking me this?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "I'm curious. We don't get many visitors, especially not ones looking for a new place to call home. Visitors either really love it here, or they hate it and leave swiftly."

"Do you love it here?" you asked.

"Of course."

The motel was right there. You were almost there. Almost done pretending. "That's nice," you replied.

Several moments of silence passed. Only a couple more steps to the motel's front yard.

"Do you like to paint?" Wally asked.

Now this, you could be honest about. "Yeah, sometimes."

"Well, I'm hosting an art lesson at my house tomorrow evening. Have you met Eddie?" Wally glanced at the motel, then stopped, probably deciding that this was where he should turn around and go home.