Misty rain turned to lofty rainbows as he made his way down through the woods, oblivious to the wet leaves and branches brushing against him.
The fresh air smelled clean and pure. He arrived at the paved road and
walked across to the other side, where his mailbox stood silently, like a
sentinel against motion. Opening the door, he reached in and took out his
mail, grimacing as he saw still another postcard from his realtor mixed in
with the monthly bills. Another offer to buy the mill ! How many times
would he have to tell them before they understood that he had no
intention whatsoever of selling it ! At any price !
Johnathan closed the mailbox and headed back up the mountain. His home
now consisted of a compact, three-story A-Frame that overlooked the mill
and creek below, but it was quite similar to an old silo he had once lived
in, that he had re-modeled and upgraded with the most modern technology
available. Retirement held no excitement for him. He kept himself busy
with continued improvements because it was as close to enjoyment as he
could get lately, and because he could afford it. He was quite wealthy, but
money played no part in his quest for solitude. The A-Frame overlooked
the mill but could not be seen from it, as it was nestled comfortably among
the trees and leaves. If happiness was wanting nothing, he was pretty darn
close. If he didn't think of her sometimes , he'd probably be there.