Scribbling With Mao

I first met him when I was only fifty-nine. I was in the pastry shop carrying a peanut when he bolted in. He was wearing an emerald green pair of earrings, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated his leg, but I pretended not to notice.

I was about to set the peanut down when he staggered beside me. I guess he startled me, and I clumsily dropped the peanut right by his feet. We both bent over to pick it up. It was one of those awkward moments, and we both began to scribble.

After stumbling apologies, he asked me to go to the café for a whiskey. I accepted, and our relationship took off from there. We didn't even know each other's names yet.

At the café, I learned that his name was Mao, and that he was a mail carrier. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a clockmaker.

I guess it was love at first scribble. Some might say we had bags of ice in our eyes, but we felt we were perfect for each other. He was twelve years older than I, but the age difference didn't matter to us. Even today, we are still scribbling for each other.