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In Medias Res Lifting the bone china tea cup, settled in its matching saucer, to a point midway between her lap and her lips, she began. “You see, Sheriff, when he was just seven, I saw Shelly Dement strike John.” She paused for a delicate sip, set it down and sighed. “Only sev –“ “Ma’am, have you seen Dillinger recently?” She rewarded this effrontery with a sharp look – as well she should, but then, for just a brief moment, her brave façade threatened to crack. She cast her eyes around the room as if looking for a way out. Until, that is, her gaze settled on me and I am proud to say she seemed to gather new resolve. She reached out to lightly run her fingers over the raised relief of my fired enamel relief. Had I the feline capabilities of a warm blooded creature, I would have preened beneath her touch. Her calm restored, she looked up at the younger man who, in turned seemed to try to reassure her with his smile. “Young man,” she said, pointedly ignoring the beast in the middle of the parlor, perhaps you would like a cup of tea? Lavender and chamomile – my own special blend with just a hint of mint to give it a little kick.” She lifted me over an empty cup and raised her eyebrows at him. He responded, “Um, no Ma’am. Not right now, but thank you for offerin’ jes’ the same.” A kindred spirit! Neither of us wanted her to be uncomfortable. When he bobbed his head in a quick bow, I marveled that such a well-mannered young man would suffer the indignity of being subordinate to the crass monstrosity standing next to him. When said monstrosity grunted his displeasure, I do believe I saw a glimmer of embarrassment in the poor lad’s eyes. For her part, she just sniffed at the fat man’s vulgar display, set me down – unemptied, and looked him right in the eye. What she saw there must have been quite ugly for her gaze faltered and dropped to his untidy midsection before she raised it again to the much friendlier face of the younger man. A shy smile graced her lips – returned in kind as their eyes met. She sat up a little straighter and, looking directly – and only – at him, proceeded to speak once more. “When he was seven years old, I saw Shelly strike Johnnie.” She didn’t stop talking when the Sheriff emitted another of his vile grunts. “I told her momma right away, of course, but she didn’t believe me – no one ever did back then. Not Shelly. Not their pretty, sweet, funny, bright-as-a-shiny-new35

Profile for Odyssey Project

In Medias Res: Vol. 2, Summer 2013  

The Odyssey Project's original publication featuring brand new fiction, poetry, reviews, profiles, interviews and more from Odyssey Project...

In Medias Res: Vol. 2, Summer 2013  

The Odyssey Project's original publication featuring brand new fiction, poetry, reviews, profiles, interviews and more from Odyssey Project...

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