A Sympathetic Heart

A Sympathetic Heart

"What a gloomy night," Sarah thought as she drew the curtains closed and turned from her living room windows. The fog settled in just as sunset arrived and lay stagnant over the village as if someone dropped dry ice into water. Although her house was balmy inside, she still felt a chill that caused goosebumps to appear. She rubbed her arms in response, yet an uneasy feeling hitched onto her. Maybe some tea may help her calm down some.

She entered the kitchen, filled her old fashioned kettle with water, and placed it on the stove. To save on her electricity bill, she kept the overhead lights off, but tonight she considered changing her mind. She walked toward the living room light switch on the wall and placed her hand on it. On second thought, the lamp is good enough. She returned to the window and gazed into nothingness outside.

The kettle whistled and she returned to the kitchen. Just as she pulled it from the fire, she heard a knock. Who could that be? She peeked through the peephole. An older gentleman stood outside and looked very cold. With a sympathetic heart, she opened the door. She greeted him and he only nodded. He stepped inside and took a seat with his back to her sitting very tall.

Approaching from behind, she asked, "Would you like a cup of tea?" He didn't speak.

"Are you okay? Would you like a sweater?" Still no response.

Why won't he speak? Nevertheless she returned to the kitchen to make her cup of tea. When she returned to the living room, he still hadn't moved. Becoming wary, she moved to the couch and placed her tea on the table. As she faced him to ask another question, she realized he had no face.