VIII. Strength.

Our Rooming House—EVENING

I am back in the bedroom, staring out the window at a gathering storm. Andrea is making her nighttime preparations. I can hear running water from the bathroom as well as her voice.

“Piteux, you must go out and close the paddock gates. Leo will get out! And be careful!”

She’s right, of course. Not that it’s my job. Not my horse. Not Andrea’s either but she loves the landlady’s beautiful white horse. I head outside.

The wind is picking up steadily, whipping my clothes around as I approach the swinging gates. I peek my head inside.

“Horse?”

There’s a wind gust and the gate clangs shut and I jump back, narrowly missing it from clamping shut on my neck. The horse comes out of the barn and rears a little. I look up.

“There you are, Leo. Good horse.”

I wind is unending. I lunge at the gate, forcing it shut and locking it. Now the lightning picks up, but as I head back to the house I grab a kite that has blown up against the fence. He lets it fly behind me as I run back to the house, laughing at my success.

I am still smiling satisfactorily when I get back to our rooms. I sit on the bed and flip through a book. The water shuts off in the next room; I can hear the sound of the shower curtain retracting. I call to her.

“Je suis fini, Petit.”

Petit is my funny word for her. Little one.

There is no answer. I start up from the bed.

“Petit?”

I enter the bathroom to find it empty. I wave away the steam of the running hot water, but even waving the fog away does not make Andrea appear.

“Petit?”