Prelude 25

She sat on the park bench, enjoying the warmth and radiance of the late afternoon sun. Around her birds scuttled around pecking at the crumbs she was dropping from her hands. One enterprising little robin jumped up on to the bench in the hope of more food, gave her a cheeky look, and flew off.

She loved these times in the park: feeding the birds, watching the children playing, reading, or just sitting quietly and reflecting. She'd had a good life, the last few perhaps a little sadder since her husband died, but she was grateful for the many good things God had blessed her with.

Across from her sat a tired, worn looking man. She liked looking at people and guessing what they might be but he was not giving much away and her curiosity was aroused. His great big beard hinted at links with the sea but his hands were refined, so it was more likely that he was an unkempt intellectual of some description.

He looked up suddenly, their eyes meeting for a fleeting second before he looked away. She was struck by the deep intensity of his eyes, but even more by the reaction they produced in her.

She hadn't blushed like this in years.