Warm, nearing hot, the sun blasts through the unusually large set of windows that essentially creates the south-facing wall of the tiny attic space. Twinkles of light catch crusted pieces of dust as they are thrust from the place of their death into a new life, swimming through the unknown, toward an unknowable end. The direction of the light rays slice diagonally through the space and shed light solely upon two human figures.
“What do you mean a picture? Like a picture?” he asks with a small mime as if holding a camera; “Or a picture?” he emphasizes with an attempted mime of arms opening wide over his head and around as if to encapsulate the grandiosity of a thing. “A picture,” a small girl child responds with so much matter-of-fact attitude that he begins to sweat. Rubbing his hands on the tops of his knelt thighs, he stares into the pattern of the antique Persian upon which the two sit—quite uncomfortably, he would explain and rather quite comfortably, according to the girl.
He thinks some more. “A picture is … It’s … it’s … a picture is like … shit no … not like … that’s not helpful … um … a picture … okay look,” he scoots himself closer to the girl child and adjusts himself into a cross-legged position. She blinks, somewhat taken aback. “What?” he inquires. She blinks again, twice. She whispers a tiny sound to clog the hole from which Silence filled the room, “You were saying?” Gazing upward at the now-plugged hole, his attention returns, “Yes, oh, right. A picture.” He takes in a slow deep breath, “Imagine for me, will you, a scene you remember.” She looks at him, unmoved. “Close your eyes,” he attempts. She stares daggers. Pleading, he nudges her back into a comfortable seated position. “Close your eyes,” he instructs. She complies. “Imagine for me something you’ve seen before in your life. Anything. Remember all of the little details of the scene before you,” he guides. Eyes softly closed, the girl child simply asks, “And now?” He returns to his knees and excitedly rubs his two hands together in front of him, “Okay, now. Tell me. What do you see?”
A tiny ladybug lands awkwardly on the outer edge of the window frame and peers curiously into the attic, “Ah ha! There she is.” Flustered but energized by the sight of her, the ladybug swirls up and around the window to find an entrance. Near the top of the house where wall becomes roof, the ladybug spots it. Toward the middle of the roof, the lady sees the hole through which Silence attempts to leak into the home. “God bless you, Silence,” the lady whispers as it approaches the hole. “What are you doing here?” Silence asks. “I need to talk to her,” the ladybug responds, and then it adds, “But actually, this is none of your business.” “Well, I can see where I’m not welcome, but I’ll have you know, she’s up to something.” “Yea, obviously,” the ladybug retorts. “Why else would I fucking be here?” “Right, well,” Silence begins, “I’ll see you around.” Ignoring it, the ladybug got to work.
“I see a tiny red insect flustered and fluttering its way toward me,” she begins. “Where are you?” he urges. “Here, in this attic,” she responds. “Oh, that’s nice. When did this happen?” he continues. “Now,” she answers. He looks around. “The ladybug will be here any moment. I believe there are messages on order,” she quietly explains as she opens her eyes and makes immediate direct contact with his. Suddenly, he heard a silent buzz swoop by his right ear. “There it is now. Hello,” she greets the ladybug as it approaches and lands clumsily atop her left shoulder.
“Darling,” the ladybug starts, short of breath, hunched over its knees or what could be considered its knees. “Darling, you’re needed. Immediately.” She sighs with a hint of frustration. “No, no, no, don’t be frustrated now,” the ladybug insists. “Can I help?” he intrudes. “Ah!” the ladybug screams. “Who the hell are you?” “Never mind,” she interjects. “I cannot be there if I am stuck here,” she explains calmly to the ladybug. “Ugh! Why do you do this? Sit and pose for some picture? Why? Why!” the ladybug dramatically laments.
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