AN UNKNOWN ADMIRER
I had noticed her there – every day – the last three weeks. At the off-shoot of the path. Where the fitness trails intersects with the walking maze.
Her easel and paints were always in front of her. Her brush always seemed to be directed purposefully at her canvas.
When I completed my run, she was always gone.
I had never seen her enter the tiny off-shoot … Nor had I ever seen her leave.
I was astounded when I rounded the final turn of the trail. The entire western end of the lot was invaded by police and rescue personal.
“Sir,” my stupor was interrupted. “The lieutenant would like to see you.”
The officer gently took my arm… a tad pushy.
“What is it?”
“Been an incident near the entry of the mazes.”
Without thinking, I blurted, “The elderly, lady painter?”
“How well did you know her?”
“Not at all”
I looked to where he directed my gaze. There were eleven canvas paintings of me in mid-stride racing through the wooded trails.