She did, a mouthful instead of a sip. “I understand you care about my son, but I have to say I’m not too sure I trust you.”Emily could feel the alcohol in her stomach. “Why? We’ve been friends for years.”Mr. Johnson stepped closer. “I’ve seen you at those games. I’ve seen you with your friends. You’re a flirt, you like to play around. Brock’s no player. I’m not sure where I missed that part of fatherhood, but he’s not confident like he should be.”“He’s a good guy.” She said lamely.Mr. Johnson shrugged, “But you’re not a good girl. You’re obedient. And you like men, not boys. I’ve seen how you look at me. And you’ve noticed how I look at you.”Emily swallowed dryly. He was very close to her now. She was burning up and she couldn’t get Brock out of her mind. She finished her drink. There was a lot left. Her head was light now.“I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”Mr. Johnson touched the outside of her thigh and her leg tingled. “You dress nice, most people might not suspect you’re a. There was not a hint of the ugliness of man or of the industrial world. The beauty of the forest flourishes with all it’s glory like one gorgeous painting but it’s beauty is not seen, but felt in your heart and soul. As the sun is setting I make it back to the road to the little village where I now live. The darkness moves slowly over the forest like a curtain closing out the window’s view. The mystery is even more prevalent then during the daylight. While I walk back to my new home with the sunset at my back, I could feel the warmth of the golden rays of the sun. In the graying of the night before me is a crescent moon, its lustrous beams just start covering the meandering river, as birds songs fall silent in the cover of darkness. At the foot of the steps of my house I stop to inhale nocturnal forest scents, aroma’s like that of lilacs and wild flowers, or of fresh fallen rain or the aroma of freshly cut fields of grain. The air this night is cool, crisp, and fresh making me drowsy.
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