The Cottage and its Lady

She helps me up to my front porch. We take the first step. "Have you bought things for cooking?" Then, another. "Maybe something for a grandchild?" The door is in front of me now. "A friend?" I can feel her hand lingering next to mine, as if she is almost ready to reach for it. I take three steps forward to reach my cottage. Without looking back I say, "No. There is only me." The lady has been living in her cottage for as long as she has been old. On Tuesdays she buys her groceries, on Thursdays she walks, and she never misses a sunrise. She is satisfied with her routine and her solitude, though she appreciates the occasional company of kind strangers. The lady soon discovers, however; that unexpected company is not quite the same. But neither is it as terrifying as she imagines.