George wanted some one to answer his question about love and Demeter, but his Aunt was dead and no one else knew his soul. So he leant against the kitchen door post, and pretended to be Sydney Carton from A Tale of Two Cities, because he was a hero and neither the French Revolution nor the guillotine could put him off his quest.
‘It is a far, far better thing that I do now..’
George liked being Sydney Carton. He felt taller and more handsome. Lazily handsome with indolent, perfectly blue eyes. George practised his lethal, killer look. His sister failed the test and skipped away down the path to tease her cat Gertie, who was sunbathing on a heap of feathers. He tried again on Mrs Cotswold as she arrived to take his father to dinner, with her bright blonde hair and small black car. She patted the air above his head as she had never had children and worked with important numbers all day long. Sydney wouldn’t have wasted his time. Heroes were discriminating, misunderstood and lonely. AND they always waited at tables, in parks and now in this door way, for the real thing. The ONLY thing left shining in the world since his Aunt had gone away.
But where was she? Did she know he existed and breathed richer, finer air because she was on the planet? Did she?
It is a far, far better thing that I DO now..
‘Hello you.’