She’s Waiting on the Doorstep Again

She’s Waiting on the Doorstep Again


I’m trying to hold on to my dream, but my eyes are open. Something has woken me up. I listen closely and hear someone beneath my bedroom window. It’s her again.

I let out a sigh. I don’t want to get up from underneath the warm, velvet covers. There it is once again: a faint tapping at the door.

‘Fine,’ I say out loud.

I drag myself out into the wintry air, annoyed about my lack of resolve. As I put on my jeans and an old green sweater, I look out the window and take in the crispness of the morning. The first rays of sunlight are touching the last remaining heaps of snow that look like white chocolate drops sprinkled over the hill side.

I walk down the stairs and go into the kitchen to turn on the kettle.

When I get to the front door, I open the little window and take a peek. Nothing to see but the steam of my own breath. More taps, with an undertone of impatience this time. I close the window and open the door. She quickly sneaks past me, before I close it and follow her back into the kitchen.

She takes a seat on one of the wooden chairs and starts scratching her ear.

‘We can’t keep meeting like this,’ I say.

The scratching stops.

‘How do you mean?’ she asks, squinting her eyes.

I put a herbal teabag into my cup and pour some of the hot water over it.

‘Well, for one thing, you are… a rabbit.’

‘Yes, I am a aware of that,’ she replies, as she flicks a small brown leaf off her white fur coat.

I want to say something more, but instead I just sit down at the table.

‘So, tell me about your day yesterday,’ I say.

‘Believe it or not… ’ she begins.

I sip my tea and listen.

Mischa van den Brandhof is a writer, photographer and overall beginner at life. She can often be found wandering the Dutch seaside in her wellingtons, capturing the magic of everyday adventures.

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