Michael Malone - Weebly

watchfulness than her own.
As if nature teased her through the wide, brightcurtained
windows, sunlight sparkled all over the
useless, silent mechanical box, that Pandora's box of a
vicarious human race. Evelyn stared at the screen. It
was rather like looking directly into a mirror and seeing
nothing reflected there. When she hurried out her dutch
doors to see if the rain last night had disconnected her
cable, what she saw not so much horrified or angered
her as bewildered her. Her beautiful summer garden
had been vandalized. Someone had flung her plants
everywhere, their roots dangling limply out of dirt clods.
Someone had slashed the backs of her bamboo chairs.
And along the wall her television cable had been neatly
cut. A section of it lay like a severed snake on the patio
bricks.
Dazed, Evelyn walked back inside her house,
where, her fingers to her lips, softly breathing, "Oh, oh,
oh," she floated from one pastel room to another. Mimi
had left at dawn for Cape Cod. What should she do?
As she reached to phone Tracy Canopy to ask her
advice, through her front window she glimpsed Ernest