Tio_Narratore
Studies
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- Dec 2, 2008
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“She should be coming soon, Gianni.”
“In about five minutes or so, Stan,” replied Gianni as his friend took a seat next to him on the front porch of the Lakeview Manor Seniors Residence. “Bill better hurry or he’ll miss her.”
Bill Scanlon, at seventy-two, was the oldest of the three friends, but still robust at his age. A retired technical artist, he rented a three-room suite at the Lakeview. He was the tallest of them as well, standing at just a fraction above six feet. He moved to the residence a year after his wife passed away; he didn’t want to spend his time fixing meals and taking care of the house.
Gianni Bellavista, age sixty-nine, was also a widower. He was a retired contractor, short at five-foot-seven, but stocky and still muscular. He has a two-room apartment and works out for an hour in the residence exercise room every day.
Stan Smith, aged seventy, knew he’d never want to keep house, so he moved into a two-room unit at Lakeview Manor the day he retired from the Navy. He never married; said he never met the right woman. But he did admit to meeting many of the ‘wrong’ ones in all the ports he visited. Five-ten and a bit paunchy, he still had an eye - and hopes - for yet another wrong woman.
And then there’s “she,” the young woman who passes by every day on her way to and from work. The three men don’t know much about her, not even her name, except that she’s pretty and well built. She moved into the small cottage next to the residence at the beginning of the summer. Bill was the first to notice her, and he and his friends took to watching her walk by at the end of the day. After a week or so they began to wave, and she waved back from the sidewalk about a hundred feet from the porch. Shouted ‘hello’ and smiled as well. And on weekends, whether intentional or not, she gave the boys a treat. They’d be out sitting on the side porch watching her gardening in her shorts and pretty revealing tops or ogling her as she sunbathed in a bikini.
She must have known they were eyeing her, and didn’t seem to mind it. Maybe she even enjoyed it, they thought - and hoped. And she was so sweet and friendly as well.
But now summer was coming to an end, and the prospect of her gradually fading from their sight as the weather grew colder and the days shorter was starting to leave them a bit dispirited. Her presence had made life at the manor more bearable; the residence was pretty good, but management ran it as a pretty tight ship, including a ban on private meetings between the male and female residents. At least the girl next door gave the three friends something real to fantasize about, a real girl, not the images on the internet porn sites.
“In about five minutes or so, Stan,” replied Gianni as his friend took a seat next to him on the front porch of the Lakeview Manor Seniors Residence. “Bill better hurry or he’ll miss her.”
Bill Scanlon, at seventy-two, was the oldest of the three friends, but still robust at his age. A retired technical artist, he rented a three-room suite at the Lakeview. He was the tallest of them as well, standing at just a fraction above six feet. He moved to the residence a year after his wife passed away; he didn’t want to spend his time fixing meals and taking care of the house.
Gianni Bellavista, age sixty-nine, was also a widower. He was a retired contractor, short at five-foot-seven, but stocky and still muscular. He has a two-room apartment and works out for an hour in the residence exercise room every day.
Stan Smith, aged seventy, knew he’d never want to keep house, so he moved into a two-room unit at Lakeview Manor the day he retired from the Navy. He never married; said he never met the right woman. But he did admit to meeting many of the ‘wrong’ ones in all the ports he visited. Five-ten and a bit paunchy, he still had an eye - and hopes - for yet another wrong woman.
And then there’s “she,” the young woman who passes by every day on her way to and from work. The three men don’t know much about her, not even her name, except that she’s pretty and well built. She moved into the small cottage next to the residence at the beginning of the summer. Bill was the first to notice her, and he and his friends took to watching her walk by at the end of the day. After a week or so they began to wave, and she waved back from the sidewalk about a hundred feet from the porch. Shouted ‘hello’ and smiled as well. And on weekends, whether intentional or not, she gave the boys a treat. They’d be out sitting on the side porch watching her gardening in her shorts and pretty revealing tops or ogling her as she sunbathed in a bikini.
She must have known they were eyeing her, and didn’t seem to mind it. Maybe she even enjoyed it, they thought - and hoped. And she was so sweet and friendly as well.
But now summer was coming to an end, and the prospect of her gradually fading from their sight as the weather grew colder and the days shorter was starting to leave them a bit dispirited. Her presence had made life at the manor more bearable; the residence was pretty good, but management ran it as a pretty tight ship, including a ban on private meetings between the male and female residents. At least the girl next door gave the three friends something real to fantasize about, a real girl, not the images on the internet porn sites.