You said I was perfect for you; isn’t it amazing how you could feel that after knowing me for only an hour we’ve spent together in the moving car?
I talk a lot and I am not used to people actually listening, but you do; and I usually feel so lonely but no, not now when I am with you, isn’t that amazing?
No, I have no friends or family, no, I have no one; there are seldom days when I do not feel like the most miserable person on Earth, and here you came, being so kind and talking to me with such a genuine warmth in your voice.
Why are we stopping in the middle of the forest, did something break?
Is that a gun in your hand?
But, you said I was perfect…
(c) 2009, Author Jelena Vencl Ohlrogge
Perfect? Well, let's just say she's up there, this Jelena femme fatale from Swedish lands where cold creates a new kind of warmth, the kind that comes up in your eyes when you read a tale that twists and shouts her surprise.
To understand Jelena's short stories, read MissUnderstood ~ Discover a new flair of flare there for better and good. Beware though of her familiar cat and some of the brews near the cauldron ~ tis told there's something witchy going on. It's a Swedish thing, you'll have to ask her.
THANK*YOU dear Jelena for rising like the swirl of steam from that pot of ideas you keep always on fire, giving a share up under the lights again AT THE BIJOU. I notice Michael has a sparkier look in his eye when you're on stage with him. Could it be your charm? Could it be the gin?
~ Absolutely*Kate and fine renown, AT THE BIJOU