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There is something the Matter with Parnard.
"There is something wrong with Parnard," I said, trying to make light conversation over a matter I was increasingly concerned about.
It was early evening. Parnard and Marawendi had long since departed, while I had been brushing and combing Estarfin's wild-waved hair into a silken sheen. He turned his head to regard me. It was that 'look' he reserved for when he believed I was underestimating him. Not that I did so often. I knew most of his failings, and those were few and far between. Indeed, I was often impressed by how astute and learned he really was. Yet perception of the mood of others was never his foremost skill.
"That much is obvious," he replied, holding my attention so that I paused the rhythm of my combing.
"Forgive my assumptions. What do you think is the matter with Parnard.?"
(Story : Finding our Feet again )
Picture by Estarfin
