31 Days of Halloween

Day Nine: What's in a Name?

A name is a lovely thing. It's given to you with your first breath, it gives you identity as soon as you take your first step. It can define everything you are. It's no wonder people tell you not to give it to strangers.

But that's not something Paul ever worried about. He flaunted his name with everything he had, stitched into his clothing for all to see. He was reckless with his name because he thought it could never be taken from him. And then Paul met his new neighbor, Tilly.

Paul watched her lug in furniture with the movers, sweat beading her porcelain brow. He was entranced by the way she walked, the way her long skirts swished around her delicate ankles. Tilly was everything Paul dreamed of, and yet he found it hard to go over and introduce himself. He couldn't even think of what he would say first. But ultimately, he knew at some point he would have to get some courage and go say hi.

Paul had never been one for baking, but that morning he set about making his mother's pumpkin muffins. They surely weren't as neat or pretty as his mother's, but they tasted just as good and he supposed that was the important part. He dressed in his nicest button up and trudged over with the pastries, hoping she was still home. He rang the bell, balancing the basket in one hand, and waited nervously for the door to open.

But it didn't. Paul waited ten minutes before he decided to set the muffins on the step and walk back home, defeat heavy in his mind. As he turned down the steps, he heard the click of a lock behind him. He quickly did a one-eighty, picking up the basket as he whirled around, and stood before the door again though slightly out of breath. His nervous energy pulsed as he watched it slowly open.

Tilly was even more beautiful than her profile in the window. A smatter of freckles decorated the bridge of her elfin nose and her bottle green eyes narrowed in delight as she saw the muffins. She waited, more patiently than any other woman would be to see a strange man on their porch, as Paul gathered himself.

"Hi...hello. I'm Paul, your neighbor. I live over in that blue house." Paul lazily waved a hand in the direction of his house, unable to take his eyes off her.

"I'm Tilly. Um...are those muffins for me?" Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, and Paul felt trapped in their depth. Honestly, he felt like a fool, but his actions were not his own now.

Paul shoved the basket at Tilly, who grabbed it with a shocked smile. She continued to stand in front of him, clearly unsure if there's more he was going to say. "Paul? Was there something else?"

Paul shook his head, his cheeks rosy with embarrassment. He realized he had just been staring at Tilly, not saying anything. "Sorry, no. I just wanted to bring over the pastries, welcome you to the neighborhood. I'll see you around then."

Paul made his escape before he did anything else to embarrass himself, hearing Tilly chuckle behind him. "What a nightmare that was..." he mumbled under his breath. He only hoped he could have a second chance talking to the lovely Tilly.

And he got his chance a week later. Paul was out in his kitchen, enjoying a leftover muffin, when he noticed Tilly in her front yard. She was struggling with the pull cord on her lawnmower, the wheels bumping up and down from the force she was using. Paul couldn't help but notice that the lawn was already immaculate, but he still threw on a tee shirt and went outside to help.

Tilly noticed him coming and stood up from her hunched angry position to give him a small wave. Paul gave an enthusiastic wave and looked over her lawnmower. "Having some trouble?"

Tilly blew an agitated puff of air into her bangs, briefly sending them up above her head. "I can't seem to turn it on. The previous owner said it was practically brand new, but the darn thing just won't start."