Being Frank.

I went for a walk today, and took the route along Mill Lane where Sarah lives. I’d walked a little way beyond her house when I heard a woman’s voice call my name. It was Sarah with Inca, her cocker spaniel, on a lead. She hurried towards me.

‘Can we walk with you?’ she asked.

‘Of course, it would be my pleasure. But why would you want to?’

‘I’ve seen a funny man around here a couple of times and he makes me nervous.’

‘Funny? In what way?’

‘Oh, I dunno, he’s just weird and gives me the creeps.’

‘Has he ever approached you or said anything?’

‘No. He just looks at me in a way that makes me shiver.’

My next statement just leapt out, seemingly of its own volition. I swear it was somebody else talking.

‘I’m surprised any man bothers to look at you at all.’

Her face coloured for a second and she took an involuntary breath. She looked hurt and confused.

‘There’s more,’ I continued, smiling. ‘Shall I go on?’

She looked defensive and shrugged her shoulders, and so I told her how I’d made a blog post about her once. I explained how she seemed to make a conscious effort to appear plain and unassuming, but that when she started talking her personality came alive and her eyes radiated a rare beauty.

The expression on her face relaxed a little, and changed to one of questioning. And then she bit her bottom lip and we carried on walking. There was silence for a while. Eventually we talked about the weather.

Did this really happen or did I make it up? Guess.