Athena

Rick took a bath. For an hour he lay in the tub.

Athena, his woman. They had met on a bustling autumn day on the square. She in a long-coat had caught his eye.

He in dark blue attire but that was not how they met.

Athena sat in black skirt black stocking black shoes on the edge of Rick’s bed. He had been abandoned before. Another other. Transported by the roll of an imaginary bodhrán he held the door.

Athena walked out. In the South he had met so many nice people.

Is Rick honest?