Kindness 1
Flash Fiction
Spontaneity
I rented a very small attic room in West London, and when A moved in with me, it was seriously under-equipped for the two of us. A sizeable area had been set aside for cooking purposes. Basically all we had was a bed, a sofa, a table and a chair. We had no adornments of any sort except for a nondescript framed Parisian scene hanging on a nail.
But we were young, and love and fresh water were all we needed. On a Saturday we would take things easy, and on that particular afternoon, we were happily cuddling when there was a knock at the door. A was going to jump out to open the door, but I held on to her, mouthing, Keep schtum and they’ll go away. She shook her head, and in a theatre whisper said, You know, it might be an emergency, and broke free and made for the door.
Sorry to bother you like this A, but do you have a nail? Fact is we did not, we did not even have a hammer.
To my amazement, I heard A say, We just might, hang on. And she directed her steps towards Montmartre, took it down, pulled the nail out and handed it over to the neighbour.
