Margret sat at the window in her wheel chair.
As she always did on Thursdays.

Maybe it is today.
When I see that tall dark handsome man again.
Her view was obscured by the net curtain slightly.
But his siluette she knew.
So engraved was it on her mind.

Wish i had made that tea now.
She said to herself.
But I can not leave now.

So she reach for the Gin which was at hand.

Really should not.
She said to herself.
As she poured it in the glass.
Just one finger or two.

After finishing two glasses.
The siluette stood at the end of the path.
In a panic she pulled at the wheel chair.
Now the front door was the target.

Pushing and pulling at her wheel chair, on her way into the hall.
She became stuck on the carpet gripper, that separated the lounge from the hall.
In her frustration, she pulled and push those wheels till.
Over the gripper they went.

She could hear the siluette footsteps now receding.
Getting to the front door there she saw laying on the floor an envelope.

Her hands now hot and sweaty, ripped the envelope apart.
Reading these words, the words she wanted to hear.





Please find enclose your new pension book.