“This house is a bloody mess,” Shelley yelled at Mick.
Mick was in his usual position, sitting in his recliner chair with his laptop on his knees, engrossed in his various forums. Beside him were plates that he had had various snacks on, and mugs that had once had coffee in. Shelley was furious. There was so much clutter in the rather small room that Mick had adopted as his own, that she could not even walk through it safely to remove the offending objects.
In her fury, Shelley retired to the bedroom where she started going through the drawers underneath the television set. She had forgotten that the photographs were there. As she looked at them she felt exceedingly WISTFUL. There was their old house. Small but beautiful. Well, in her eyes anyway. At the end of the road were trees and behind them the wonderful hills that she used to climb with her dogs. Though you couldn’t see them, there were lakes as well.
In her mind, Shelley went back to that place, remembering all her escapades there. She had known some real characters. Life had never been dull. In particular she remembered the snow. You could go out in the afternoon, travel just a few miles, then return to the small town where they lived, to find yourself cut off by the snow. Then, you had to park your car and walk the rest of the way home. Shelley shivered as she remembered, suddenly not feeling so wistful. Outside, the sun was shining. She made her way out into the garden, and thanked her lucky stars that she no longer had to face the rugiurs of winter in that place. She would never be cut off again.