An Illusion of Happiness
As I stroll across the sands, a familiar figure jogs towards me, a small dog trotting alongside; a terrier that looks as though it has been assembled from a junkyard of other dogs.
As the runner approaches, he angles my way. Drawing close, he pulls to a stop, huffing.
“Hi, Kirstie,” he says, “I was hoping I’d run into you. How are you?”
His face is severe. Ben is not an unhandsome man, but his natural expression is unsmiling, which detracts from his looks, making him appear austere, perhaps even puritanical.
And is that just an appearance….? Or is that really the man?
“Hi, Ben. I’m good. You?”
“Yeah, I’m great. Mind if we join you for a bit?”
“We?”
He nods down toward his dog. “Scruffy wants to make friends….”
True enough, Scruffy is making moves on my Me
