Interlude

She had numerous acquaintances and a select group of good friends. They were those who stood by her no matter what, who even after a long interval picked up right where they'd left off, and who corresponded for years before meeting again only to nearly fall over backwards because their friend had changed. They'd grown old, lost their hair or developed a pot belly - or in her case, become more weather-beaten on top of the scars. Nonetheless, they were the same people under the skin and on paper; just the outer wrapping altered.

All that aside, she was pleased to have made a new friend. They'd met a few days ago but instantly connected, perhaps because they were very different, yet also alike in many ways. She longed to see her again and felt infused with a vigour that had been lacking in a while, along with less pain in her chest. Now, when she held her hands on a horizontal plane, they barely trembled.

She dropped her hands and looked into the horizon. Her lips puckered.

There was an era when she wouldn't have questioned her impression of a person. She would have trusted her instincts and believed the goodness in the smiling eyes and kind words.

But she was a different woman these days.