I'll write a short story today. This is the first of three parts.
Gertrude Grock was a woman of importance in her day, wearing shoulder-padded outfits and high heels no matter what the occasion, even for a stroll in the park. She liked English muffins but hated apples. She sat through endless board meetings of high importances, but her thoughts would often, quite secretly, wander to nights of star-gazing in her youth, with a boy named Adderly. She kept this memory stored in dusty cabinetted storage spaces in the memory spot of her highly important mind, and only allowed herself to reminisce about them in these highly important board meetings, because that way, she forced herself not to get emotional about it all.
Gertrude Grock could be mean sometimes, and sometimes could be very nice. For example, she would often say no to Girl Scouts trying to sell her cookies, because she didn't want those loud an incessantly pushy girls banging on her door all the time, and wanted them to get the message: no cookies. I make my own. But once in a while, if someone were selling cookies at work, she would sign up for them....because that's just like Gertrude Grock. Mean sometimes, nice sometimes.
On a cold, grey morning, the old, old woman walked (carefully, and barefoot) up to her window. She stretched and yawned, as she did every morning, and opened her eyes to the world outside her windowpane. She could not believe what she saw.
There was an eyeball staring back at her, the size of her window. It blinked.
Gertrude Grock was never one to stand down from a challenge, and certainly not one to stay dumbfounded for too long.
"What are you and why are you at my windowpane?" she squawked.
Tune in tomorrow for Part 2 of this 3 part short story!