Carry Moonbeams Home In A Jar...

I turned to look at him, it was the first time I'd really done that.

He'd come away from his place by the tree effortlessly and seemed to glide towards me. He walked like a street brawler, or an accomplished dancer, I couldn't tell which. I noticed I'd clenched my fist and was eyeing him up the way I would before a fight. I could take him, I decided, but then, thats what I always decide.

'Is this your field then?' He talked like he knew all the answers and I clenched my jaw in frustration.

'Actually, yes it is.' What the hell, if he wasn't going to claim it, maybe I could and get him out of here. There was still time to get my peace back.

'Why didn't you ask me to get off then? Or put up a sign?'

My response was a long time in coming and he knew why. 'Its not your field, it never was. Its mine really.'

I was intrigued by the 'really' but hated myself for it. This guy was getting under my skin, with his pleasant smile and meek attitude. He's the kinda guy that would get a beating in the school playground and still be friendly with everyone when they'd finished. What a jerk!

'I come here to get away from people too.' How he knew why I came, I'm not sure I'll ever know. It worried me though.

'You some kind of stalker, mate?' It wasn't friendly, it was threatening.

'No, no. Just read it in your face, thats all. Its a nice place to come, when you've got better things to be doing. I love the tree line over on that hill there, the way it leads down the hill to the river bank. Its so beautiful.'

If it wasn't enough that he'd stolen my tree, my hill and my peace, he'd also laid claim to the best looking bit of the view.

'So,' I started 'you've got better things to be doing?' I wasn't really in the mood for subtlety, and this guy really didn't merit any.

'Maybe I'm doing them.' He turned back to me and smiled. I could have punched right on the nose.

'What do you do then?'

'I used to be in planning, but now I mostly work in consulting.' He waved the question away with the back of his hand. 'What do you do?'

'Oh, I'm, well actually, I'm...' My voice faltered and I wondered why I couldn't just tell this guy. Just man up and say it, spit it out. What do you care anyway, you've said much worse to people.

'I'm not going to say, its none of your business.'

'Quite right too.' He paused and looked me up and down. 'Thats a mighty fine backbone you got there son.' I didn't like it how he suddenly had adopted a Grandfather role, I never knew my Grandfather. And where did he get off calling me son? He looked at me, seeming to admire my posture. 'You could carry a lot of weight on those shoulders.'

'I already do.'

'Yeah, but you don't enjoy it do you? Sometimes you've got to let someone help you, that way you can carry more.'

'Alright, Socrates - keep it to yourself! I'm here for the view, not a philosophical weightlifting session.'

'I know, I know. I'm sorry, philosophy is like one of my hobbies. I love it. Love talking about it, I'm totally in it for the discussion, you know? The chats, I'm like that phone company; 'I love to talk!'

His talking annoyed me, but I wasn't going to say that. It would be to admit defeat. I was also annoyed that he couldn't even quote adverts correctly. I'd had enough.

'I'm going to go. I'd say it was nice to meet you...' I let my voice trail off, meant it to be sarcastic, ironic, even hurtful.

'But we haven't even finished chatting yet!'

That was the second time he stopped me from leaving, I told myself it wouldn't happen a third.