I sit by the window in the dining room, staring out at a landscaped, artistic yard I no longer see beauty in. My coffee has grown cold, and I’ve told my one remaining servant to let it be. Even if he warms it up, I won’t drink it. The spring blossoms have begun to forsake their trees. Summer’s heat will arrive soon, yet my mind is stuck in autumnal thoughts.
I never meant for it to go this far. But I became addicted to the power, the lies, and the money. Now, with my investment empire crumbling, my friends and family turn on or abandon me. And the one friend who might save me, or at least make this inevitable downfall bearable – she will not help. That, too, is my own fault. I sigh, while imagining winter settling in on my life and heart.
The servant coughs politely, and I turn. There, next to him in the door, is a shape I never expected to see again.
Huge and well-proportioned, she dominates every room she enters. Her broad forehead and ears fitting her cheeks give an air of ancient wisdom. She is dressed impeccably in a tailored suit. Her gray skin glows with vitality. So powerful and strong, exactly as I remember.
“You came,” I say into the silence. She walks toward me.
“Read about you in the papers,” she says. “It seems you might be in a pickle.”
I laugh, shaking my head.
“Didn’t think you’d come,” I say, “not after the last time. I cannot unsay my words.” My head droops. I feel ashamed. She nods.
“I am still angry about that. And I do not forgive you yet. But,” she sits in her old chair, the one I had customized when we were sitting like this often. “I am still your friend. And elephants never forsake their friends.”