Emerald

It was all over the news; prisoner escapes in Tunbridge. Julie was sick of it, sick of hearing about it and sick of feeling like a prisoner herself. The heck with it, I'm going out to mow the lawn, she said aloud. Her black cat, Mister E, got up and followed her and ran off when she pulled the red lawn mower out of the gray shed. She started it up and began mowing straight lines across her backyard. She seemed soothed by the smell of freshly cut grass and gasoline. What a hilarious cologne that could be, she thought. It could be called Saturday and sold to city dwellers who missed the suburbs.

She admired her trimmed emerald yard and maneuvered the mower back into the shed. Don't move, a voice commanded. Go inside and make me a sandwich and bring it here. Don't yell, don't call anyone, don't look for me, and everything will be fine, the voice said. Julie turned around and went back inside as if she had been hypnotized. She found a can of tuna, and opened it into a small blue bowl, adding two teaspoons of mayonnaise (no celery for this guy, she thought). She spread mustard on two slices of bread and added the goopy tuna, slicing the plump sandwich diagonally. She opened up a bag of potato chips and put a fistful on the plate with a few baby carrots. She poured a glass of cold lemonade just like she did for her nephew when he visited her during the summer. Julie carried it all out on a flowered tray. Here you go, she said, placing it in the doorway of the shed, still under the spell.

She walked back inside the house. Her heart was pounding. She locked all of the doors and windows. She sat down on her olive green couch and began to tremble. Her hands were sweaty and she began to shiver even though the day was hot. She went to the bedroom and took out her pink cardigan from the bureau and glanced up in the mirror. Her lips were completely white. Her body knew what her mind just realized; it was him, the man she put behind bars all those years ago.