Voynich Shift: Wildflower

Leonis 1:1,2:7 Part Three

A shadow clouds her face. She turns off the engine, and slowly turns her head to look at me. "Let's stay rather. Let's not go to town."

"Why? Why are you so afraid of this Lark? What did he do to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it, please." She gets out of the truck and walks over to the front porch. I do the same, grateful to be out of the scorching heat. A few clouds have gathered overhead, and I hope it rains. My shirt is sticking to my back.

I sit next to her, and a strange feeling comes over me. The feeling of urinating too loudly in a public bathroom: somebody is looking at me funny. A shiver runs down my spine.

Gracie looks up, and stares at the tall tress on the other end of the dirt road. Something flashes across her face. "On the other hand, let's go! " my brow furrows as Gracie runs towards the truck again. "Come on!" She's as impulsive as they get. I shake my head and climb into the truck a second time.

We drive the twenty or so kilometres in silence. I absorb all the nothingness around me. Red sand and a few wild shrubs pass us by. The wind whipping through the windows blows Gracie's curls in my direction. She smells like vanilla and grape.

The "town" in itself is nothing much. A few shy buildings with chipped paint greets us on the main dirt road. As we walk towards the entrance, I noticed a line of people waiting at the window on the side of the store. "What do they sell there?" I point in their direction.

"Food. Groceries." She answers matter -of-factly.

"Why don't they just go inside?" She looks at me like she's never seen me before.

"What kind of question is that? Non-whites aren't allowed inside." That's when I realise, this must be the Apartheid rules. If I didn't look the part, I probably would have been standing at that window too. A feeling of guilt and unease settles over me. I can't shake the image of those people outside.

I carry Gracie's basket for her, and after paying, we sit down at a little café. "So, Parker, I've given you enough time to recollect your thoughts. What's your story?"

"I, I still don't remember." I lie.

"Memory loss, huh? I don't buy it. Not one bit." she licks her bubblegum flavored ice-cream.

"Too bad." I take a sip of my orange juice. In the shade of a Kokerboom, the humidity is bearable. More clouds have lined up, looking dark and ominous.

"Tomorrow I want you to meet someone. A good friend of mine. He passes by here on Wednesdays. He's name is Arty."

Glancing at the sky, I know I won't be here tomorrow, and I intend on savoring my time with Gracie. "Sure thing." I smile at her. I get up, toss my empty juice bottle in the trash can , and gently take a hold of Gracie's hand. She stands up and I pull her close, leaning in to kiss those full pink lips.

Smack!

"Ouch! What was that for?" I complain while rubbing my cheek. A few people close-by stare at us, clearly shocked at Gracie's behaviour.