The felicity of unbounded domesticity
Sep. 30th, 2011 12:33 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
Day 352, 18 May
Tuesday evening
The Bakery
Jamie Kincaid came this morning with jars of honey that Mr. White had ordered, and I helped him and Rob carry them in and put them away in the store room. Didn't say more than good morning to him, though I've known him most of my life. I buy honey from him, and my parents traded with his before that. I could think of so many things to say and how nice it would be to hear him say things back. We could talk about farming and baking and honey and flowers and the summer coming. We could, but the words seemed to stick in my throat, because I was wishing we could have something more than a conversation, more than just knowing each other, something comfortable and nice, together. We two, together. In the end, I couldn't stop blushing, and I went up to the front of the bakery until he left.
I tried to put him out of my mind, but as I was wrapping goods up to be stored away, getting ready to close, it occurred to me that that was really a silly thing to be doing. Why should I be trying not to think of him when he was coming to pick me up quite soon? Of course he would be, to take me home. Our home. And then I couldn't really remember why on earth I had been trying not to think of him.
I wrap up a loaf of brioche and a few jam tarts in a clean cloth and go out on the back steps to wait for him.
[OPEN to Jamie]
Tuesday evening
The Bakery
Jamie Kincaid came this morning with jars of honey that Mr. White had ordered, and I helped him and Rob carry them in and put them away in the store room. Didn't say more than good morning to him, though I've known him most of my life. I buy honey from him, and my parents traded with his before that. I could think of so many things to say and how nice it would be to hear him say things back. We could talk about farming and baking and honey and flowers and the summer coming. We could, but the words seemed to stick in my throat, because I was wishing we could have something more than a conversation, more than just knowing each other, something comfortable and nice, together. We two, together. In the end, I couldn't stop blushing, and I went up to the front of the bakery until he left.
I tried to put him out of my mind, but as I was wrapping goods up to be stored away, getting ready to close, it occurred to me that that was really a silly thing to be doing. Why should I be trying not to think of him when he was coming to pick me up quite soon? Of course he would be, to take me home. Our home. And then I couldn't really remember why on earth I had been trying not to think of him.
I wrap up a loaf of brioche and a few jam tarts in a clean cloth and go out on the back steps to wait for him.
[OPEN to Jamie]