2004-07-06-7:37 a.m.
The three windows were oval in shape, 12 feet in height. The after-rain dripped down along the glass and outside was a dirt path that lead up a grassy hill and dissapeared.

Marcus stared out a window at his piano. He was fixed on the dirt road. That day, that day. It was such a long time ago, but maybe it wasn't? Adela was a traveling painter on the road to make a living. She appeared at Marcus' door standing out among the marble pillars and engraved wooden door. She had fire-red hair in pigtails, forest green eyes, military pants and a gray t-shirt all having various colors of paint smeared on them.

Marcus opened the door and she looked past him down a massive dark hallway having only a few windows. Marcus was use to strangers being amazed by his mansion and in it he lived all alone. He invited her in for tea and they sat in old furniture that Adela thought might have been roped off in a museam once. He talked about his wealth because Adela was wiggling and darting her eyes at artifacts, vases, and statues. He had enough money to buy a fleet, to travel the world several times over, and to buy several islands in the pacific. His mansion was large enough to house 20 people with their own rooms. Adela asked if 20 people were living at the house and Marcus said that he had no wife or children or extended family and he was never interested in having huge parties or house guests over. He was fine conducting all his businesses during the day and sleeping early at night to wake up early the next day for another business day.

Adela told Marcus she lived on the road. She loved painting so she had no choice but to paint. She told Marcus that the gods willed it so and that she had no control over herself. It would have been smarter to do business for cash but the gods never allowed that cause her affection was not turned to business. She spent most of her day painting and reached a point in her life that new clothing was hindering her so she only wore her old rags. When she realized that her buyers wouldn't come to her shop that she would bring her shop to them. She decided to live in her van and moved out of her one bedroom apartment (where she orginally sold her art) to find people who would buy her art. Dough was tight at times and she sleep on the floor of her van but what could you do if the gods willed it? She never fought destiny and after awhile, sleeping on the van floor could be soothing.

Marcus bought a painting of a redwood forest and in the distance a small man stood alone. The painting appealed to him. Adela bowed slightly to Marcus in thanks. She took the money from his hand, with her fingers brushing over his palm. She thanked him for the tea and the conversation. They talked for most of morning and into the afternoon. Marcus held the door open watching her leave. She seemed to walk slowly to her van. Marcus thought maybe he could ask her to stay the night because it was getting late. He just stood there, watching her walk slowly away. He sat at his piano, watching the dirt path everyday.

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