Rabbits in the Garden

Bach's Violin Partita no. 1 in B minor: Sarabande

"Intimidating?" Marc exclaimed. The volume of his own voice startled him, and he pushed his confusion down to a less embarrassing tone. "I don't... I don't understand."

Vi smiled sadly at him. "Let's go back inside, we can talk about it there. Would you like some lemonade?"

Before Marc could answer, Vi walked past him back toward the house, patting him lightly on the shoulder as he passed by. Marc bristled a bit at the unexpected touch, but followed closely behind anyway. As they entered the door, Vi flapped the loose fabric of his shirt and set to looking for something.

"Ugh, I wish I knew where I left my fan. This shirt keeps all the heat in."

"That's because it's silk."

Vi paused and looked at Marc. "Huh?"

"Silk is awful for summer. Don't you have any cotton or linen?"

"Oh." A thoughtful expression tinted Vi's face as he sat down at the kitchen table. "I didn't realize." Marc watched with growing anxiety as Vi deflated. Was this why people thought he was intimidating? But what had he done?

"It's just a suggestion!" Marc explained, "If you are too warm in that shirt. If you had a more absorbent fabric, it would make all the difference." He searched for something more reassuring to say. "I mean, you can wear whatever you want, so long as it doesn't kill you."

To Marc's surprise, Vi laughed.

"Thank you, Marc. I don't really pay as much attention to fabrics as I should."

"Fabrics are far more important than structure," Marc blurted, before quietly adding, "When it comes to comfort."

An odd smirk spread across Vi's face, and he patted the space across the table from him. "Come sit down. Here, let me get you some lemonade."

Marc gingerly sat in the small metal seat and folded his hands on top of the table. As he did, Vi stood and walked to the fridge, pulling out a large plastic jug with floral accents. He poured Marc a tall glass, which condensed almost instantly from the icy lemonade. Grabbing a second glass which had been hiding on a different table off from the kitchen, he returned. The glass was set in front of Marc, who took a moment to inspect it.

"It's a box mix, Minute Lemon or something like that," Vi explained.

"Thank you," was the hushed response.

Thin lips smiled behind Vi's glass as he looked Marc over. The silence made the tiny cottage feel a bit stuffy, and the only sound that permeated was the small clink of the decorative glasswork as Marc tested his own lemonade.

There are a lot of plants in here.

The lemonade, as Marc was quick to discover, was very strong. He choked a bit on the saccharine concoction, which caused Vi to rise from his chair, anxious to help.

"Are you okay?" he yelped.

"Ack, guh... Yeah, yeah I'm okay. This is so sweet." Before Marc could add an apology to his words, Vi had bounded the two steps to the fridge and produced a second pitcher, this time with water.

"Have this instead!"

Without waiting for a reply, Vi poured the lemonade down the sink, replaced it from the new pitcher, and set it back down in front of Marc. A bit startled from the suddenness of the exchange, Marc found no words for response. Instead, he complied and quickly washed the taste from his mouth. When he was finished, he looked over the strange man in front of him.

"You didn't have to pour it out," he uttered. However, at the anxious look on Vi's face, he quickly rerouted. "But thank you. The water is nice." A moment passed, Vi sipping his syrupy lemonade and Mark clutching his water. A feeling welled up in Marc and demanded to be let out. After a moment, he complied.