<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fireworks were exploding, sending joy and excitement over the city, \nilluminating the sky with flashes of red, purple, blue, silver and gold. \nPulsating stars rejoiced, first driven upward on a string, then dancing round \nand round enthusiastically in circles, until they fell gracefully towards the \nground in a velvet soft, orderly pattern. Spectators were not given long to \ncatch their breath: From the ground emerged thunderous repeaters, Roman Candles, \nand Jumping Jacks. What a blast it was, which lasted 20 minutes on the dot; \ntaking the townspeople with storm for its duration and then dying out with fumes \nof smoke from spent firecrackers and rockets hanging in the air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mrs. Rhodes, whose carpenter had been working on her coffin for the past \nthree years, had seen it all before. She smiled smugly the instant the fireworks \nstarted, at which point her long hand with the purple prolific blood vessels \npulled open her heavy drapes. All that she needed was an opening large enough to \ngive room for her head. As she bent forward to look out from her 5th floor \napartment, she noticed that her window was covered with dew, so that the \nspectacle emerging from the museum park could not be seen nearly as clearly as \none might hope and expect.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At 91, she had learned to economize with her energy, and so she did not rush \nto wipe the dew off the glass. Instead, she grabbed the large bowl of porridge \nshe had just prepared for dinner and placed it in front of the window. The \nporridge slowly but surely burned the dew into droplets that rolled off the \nglass, while the cold window returned the favor by cooling the porridge down to \na temperature Mrs. Rhodes\u2019 tongue could endure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The fireworks illuminated her mind. How many years ago was it that she and a \nboyfriend had gone to the museum park for a late springtime picnic? She could \nclearly remember how she had unfolded a large blanket for them to lie on, while \nhe went to fetch them ice cold lemonade from the outdoor cafe. 65 years or so it \nmust have been. She and that boy didn\u2019t last the summer, but then came along the \ngentleman whom she had married the following year \u2013 52 joyous years they\u2019d had \ntogether.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Having eaten about half of the porridge, she noticed that her neck was \ngetting a little bit sore from the awkward position. She could easily have \nopened the drapes further, but that would have left her apartment exposed to any \nresidents across the street. Not that she had anything to hide, everything was \ntidy and clean as always, but she wanted to watch the annual fireworks spectacle \nwithout being seen by others. \u201cEnough already!\u201d she said gently to herself as \nshe withdrew from the window, capably balancing the large bowl in her left hand \nwhile closing the curtains with the other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She sat down on her favorite sofa, essentially a love seat neatly decorated \nwith carved woodworks and solid fabric. It was firm and not smooth to sit on, \nand so it kept her upright and alert. Almost the entire wall in front of her was \ncovered by a huge collage, which presented Rome\u2019s development over the \ncenturies. This had been her life\u2019s work, commenced on the 1st anniversary of \nher husband\u2019s death and finished only three years ago, at which time the work on \nher coffin had commenced. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
What a city it was! The crowds had welcomed the soldiers of the empire, as \nthey returned from battles far away, spearheaded by a giant lion inside a cage; \nit was placed on a tram with wheels, dragged by four skinny slaves. Downfall, \nrenaissance, the basilica of Santa Maria, the modern epoch \u2013 she had tried to \ncapture it all with clippings, paintings, photos, and embroidery on her collage. \nToo bad there were few visitors to admire that any longer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI love Rome, the only place I\u2019ll ever need!\u201d she said to herself while \nwondering whether she\u2019d still be alive to watch the fireworks next year.<\/p>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Fireworks were exploding, sending joy and excitement over the city, illuminating the sky with flashes of red, purple, blue, silver and gold. Pulsating stars rejoiced, first driven upward on a string, then dancing round and round enthusiastically in circles, until they fell gracefully towards the ground in a velvet soft, orderly pattern. Spectators were not […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-container-style":"default","site-container-layout":"default","site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-transparent-header":"default","disable-article-header":"default","disable-site-header":"default","disable-site-footer":"default","disable-content-area-spacing":"default","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-107","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-quarterly-magazine"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/novelty-fiction.com\/gazette\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/107","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/novelty-fiction.com\/gazette\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/novelty-fiction.com\/gazette\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/novelty-fiction.com\/gazette\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/novelty-fiction.com\/gazette\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=107"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/novelty-fiction.com\/gazette\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/107\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/novelty-fiction.com\/gazette\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=107"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/novelty-fiction.com\/gazette\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=107"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/novelty-fiction.com\/gazette\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=107"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}