Concerning Hayden 
                            
                                      by A.M.Layrot
                                 

        There was something wrong with Hayden, on this she was certain. She had 
     
     marked all of his recent symptoms, supposed symptoms, symptom less occasions, 

     and most anything else she thought fit to include in her analysis. Sitting over 

     that orange and grey trapper-keeper, she lost herself in wandering thought.

        "Ducks," she muttered. Her dog Jonze perked up his head confused. She 

     reasserted her attentions outside her study window to the ducks she had 

     subconsciously noted. They were a "dull white" or at least this is what was

     quickly scribbled on the half-empty page. The next word was "optimistic" then 

     three ellipses, and (or would that just be one) a little arrow pointed from 

     the parenthesized comment to the ellipses. Was "parenthesized" a word, and if 

     not, do people get paid for wordsmithing?

        "Probably not nowadays, huh Jonzey boy?" she cooed to the ignorant dog.

        Looking back at the page she made a face she was glad would go unseen, as the 

     other occupant of the room was occupied elsewhere.

        "Stop licking that!" she yelled. He sedately obeyed.

        Frustrated, she decided to pen a large question mark over this entire tangent 

     and try to remember what the significance of the ducks had been.

        2 hours later, her memory was jogged. While sipping a creme beverage, the

     clock chimed. The time was 3:09. She had it specially set to do this by an old 

     Dutch gearman named Gottschalk. The time was a particular favorite of hers, for 

     reasons rarely disclosed to the outside ear, and she had grown annoyed at 

     missing the minute since moving he clock into her bedroom.

        She then wrote for 1/5 of a page about her recent insomnia, 1/4 on the beauty 

     of the morning's clouds, 1/3 on her apparent allergy to direct sunlight, and 1/2 

     a page on swans (which required her to spill over onto the next leaf of 

     elementary rule). She then immediately grabber her long coat, knit hat, and 

     traveling notebook, then moved hurriedly to the front door. 

        By this time Jonze had curled up beside the fireplace. Unfortunately it 

     wasn't lit, as was about to rain. Seeing Suzette, he gave her a droopy glance

     which made the peculiar lady mindlessly bring her umbrella.

        Returning to his previous activity, he set his snout back down upon his paws.

     He then heard the door open and close too quickly to be an invitation for 

     outside accompaniment. 

        The fireplace was dark. Was there something moving in there? The sound of 

     Suzette starting the truck pulled his attention to the front window. The 

     gravelly sounds and dust cloud sights were short lived, and he heard her ending 

     the truck quickly again. 

        He looked back into the hearth. Outside, Suzette was counting somethings 

     aloud.

        "One." 

        He thought he spied some movement behind a pile of ash.

        "Two," from the lady outside.

        Getting upon his pads, he moved to take up a better angle on the fireplace.

        "Three."

        Something was crawling out of the ash. He leaned forward.

        "Four." 

        Out came a large grey mouse! 

        "Woof!" He barked loudly as Suzette spoke something outside.

        Then (with a low rumble of thunder) it began to rain.




                                         END