Episode 6 of The Writer.
Now you might think that a robin would not make TW (aka The Writer) stop his writing. After all, he finally had several sentences. “It was the week after Mrs. Dish ran away with Mr. Spoon. All because of the Cat and the Fiddle. They had introduced the two at a company picnic. On top of that, Cat had jumped over the moon.” And that was a nice start. With lines like that, he could take the story anywhere it wanted to go.
You might think that a robin would not remind TW of his ex-wife, Sylvia. He had not seen her in a beaucoup number of years. And he hadn’t thought about her in quite some time. It was only late at night when she came to mind. When he couldn’t sleep and when he was tired. Most nights he was a sound sleeper and he had nary a trouble going off to Slumberland.
And he wasn’t the lonely type. He felt his life was full. He had a good job. At the library. He had the few friends he needed when he wanted companionship. When it came to sex, he wasn’t that sex-starved.
For him, sex was more of a hassle than a pleasure. From observations he had made over the years, he had seen how much misery it brought to others. The people he knew would date. Then one thing led to another and pretty soon there was trouble.
But there had been that one woman he had dated for six months. Helen was her name. When he made up his mind to propose, she told him she had fallen in love. And the guy she had fallen in love with was not TW. So he swore off dating.
The ten years since had been one long routine. But he was a routine kind of guy. And now This. He starts his novel after battling a case of near-writer’s-block and he gets a lo- and-behold. Like he occasionally said, “Life can be a shit sandwich.”
Then a case of what Holly Golightly called “the mean reds” came over him.Tears rolled down his eyes. Suddenly he missed Sylvia, and he missed her more than he had ever thought he would. He missed those first few weeks when Sylvia was the world. He missed her soft, soothing voice. He missed her short brunette curls. He missed the palm of her hand running across his face. He even missed the piles of messes she left behind in the living room and the bed room.
He looked down at Cat. “You would like Sylvia. She was your kind of person.”
TW stood up, walked through the kitchen, opened the door and went out onto the back porch. He looked at his window and the tree nearby. The robin was gone.
The robin was gone.