Houses There was an afternoon when her and I went for a walk through her neighbourhood. We were strangers, still getting used to one another. I knew that she was the artsy type, a young woman who rejected the present and all its modernism. She ridiculed most things, like new music, new movies, and most to do with computers. She had little patience for the kids these days with their iPods and cellphones. This is what I knew of her at the time.

We passed two houses, side by side, one classic and one modern. I asked her, if she had a choice, which would she live in? Maybe I was just making conversation, filling a silence that really needn't have been filled at all. I knew the answer; it was as obvious as her raven hair, the freckle on her cheek, the rose of her natural blush. She answered me in question if I had learned nothing about her yet.

I suppose I didn't.  ¶ 11:08 AM