21 September 2012
A girl in a red polka-dot dress skips down the crooked lane of the village. She hums happily, clutching wild flowers from the meadow in her hand.
"Good afternoon!" She calls to the old wizard who lives next door.
He looks up at the girl, his snow-drift beard swaying in the slight breeze. He raises a small smile on his face before returning to tend his fruit trees.
"Mother," the girl asks later at the dinner table, "what does Mr Wizard do with all his fruit?"
Her mother, wearing a blue polka-dot apron smiles at the daughter. "Well, the apples are for pies and the pears are for crumble."
"What about the hearts?" The girl chirps through her food.
"Ah, the hearts are for giving." Her mother sighs.
"But he never gives away the hearts," the girl protests.
"Not since some hearts were stolen, no," Mother shakes her head, "Now the hearts do not grow so well."
"I would like one," she says, smoothing her red polka-dot dress.
#hearttree (1 of 3)
Polka-dot Neighbours • Opuss № I