She couldn’t have imagined ever seeing the station filled with masked people.

Every single person — children, parents, elderly, middle-aged, travelers, security guards. It didn’t matter who they were; all were masked.

She was a studier of faces, now she became a studier of hands, of postures, of gaits.

Hands tell so much about a person. That young woman must have treated herself to a spa day recently. Her hands were as coifed as her hair. The gnarled hands of the older woman told of painful struggles with arthritis. The bandaids on the little boy’s hands (and knees) spoke of lessons learned hopefully amidst fun. Wedding rings (or lack thereof) said something, but she knew not to trust that clue. The rough working hands on the one security guard suggested a second job or hobby; she wondered which.

She watched an older man, his shoulders slumped, as he studied his phone. Was he lost, she wondered, or had he just received bad news?

A little girl was tugging at her father’s hand, peering up towards his face, clearly wanting something from him, but he was engaged in conversation with another adult and paid her no mind.

Then she watched the older woman bury her face in those arthritic hands. Her shoulders heaved.

Was she crying? she wondered. Can I help her?

Her nature was to reach out and help, but this damned pandemic had handicapped her handicap. Without the ability to read lips, she was even more isolated in a crowd.

---

This is my response to the Unicorn Challenge. Each week they post a picture. Those who take up the challenge write no more than 250 words based on that prompt.

One more lap, she told herself, and I should have it figured out.

The “lap” was a strange triangle of steep uphill, steep narrow stone stairs, and a broad, flat straightway.

She was on the hill segment. Her legs, lungs, and heart always complained on this part, but she would lean into it and push herself to continue the pace and ignore her body’s complaints.

It was that leaning in that made the laps so worthwhile. If it was easy, she wouldn’t think twice about anything. She would just la-di-da her way along and miss something significant.

No, the pushing-pushing-pushing, her heart beating harder and faster, her breathing strained, and her thigh muscles contracting and extending as she fought gravity to propel herself up the hill – that’s what helped.

This is my life, she thought.

Halfway up the hill, she almost allowed herself a rest. Almost. She pushed through it though because she didn’t want to lose momentum. She shifted her thoughts away from her ever-more-hurting body.

If I do this, she thought, he might respond with that. That would be bad.

But… if I don’t do it, she continued, we’re just stuck where we are.

She reached the top. The stairs beckoned — an easy step-step-step down to the bottom.

Walking the broad road gave her no insight, so up the hill she began again.

Push. Push. Push.

If this … then that.

Step-step-step-step-step down the stairs.

Walk the broad road.

One more lap, she said to herself.

---

The Unicorn Challenge: no more than 250 words and inspired by the photo

She opened the Valentine he had left by the bed.

“This year no hike.
Go ride your bike.”

Last year’s hike had been a disaster. They walked along the edge of the jetty. He clowned around, until he fell right into the ocean. After floundering to the shore, she wrapped him in her pink jacket as they hurried back to their apartment.

Oh, the looks they had gotten! He was soaking wet and wearing a pink jacket; she was wearing a thin shirt. They laughed all the way home, and sneezed for the next month.

On her bike she found another note:

“You know where you want to go —
Ride on down to the studio!”

She rode to one of her favorite places — the clay studio.

She parked her bike by their unused door and saw her next Valentine taped to it.

“The clay is ready; the wheel’s all set —
Go make something, my Coquette.”

She rolled her eyes. She hated that nickname, but the clay and wheel were both waiting for her as the note had said.

She was soon absorbed in her work. Time stood still as she shaped and reshaped the vase. She was startled when the studio owner tapped on her shoulder and handed her another card.

“Come outside and you will see
A special valentine from me.”

She washed her hands and stepped out the door. Her bike was covered with flowers, all her favorite kinds.

He knelt beside it, holding a small square box.

---

Too corny? Probably.

This is my response to the Unicorn Challenge this week. It’s an easy challenge (in theory) — no more than 250 words and base whatever you write on the photo prompt.

Chorus:
It’s the man with the iron finger
Whatever you do, don’t linger!
Don’t stop and look!
He’ll open that book
And you will fall down dead
OOOO-oooo-OOOO-oooo-OOOO-oooo-OO!

v. 1
One day young William wandered
And all the while he pondered
What should he do
With Mary-Sue
When suddenly he saw
A giant of a man
Who raised his heavy hand
As William filled with dread
The giant stared and said:
“Come take a look –
It’s in my book –“
Then William fell down dead.

Chorus: (see above)

v. 2
Miss Mary Sue came searching
Love like a bird was perching
Upon her heart
But she did start
When she saw that man
Who raised his heavy hand
Her light heart filled with dread
The giant glared and said,
“Come take a look –
It’s in my book –“
But Mary Sue fell dead.

Chorus: (see above)

v. 3
Simon, he was walking
A-whistling and gawking
At that and this
In simple bliss
When he saw the man
Who raised his heavy hand
So Simon stopped and smiled
He asked him like a child,
“What’s in your book?
May I please look?”
The giant ran off wild.

OOO-oooo-OOOO-oooo-OOOO-oooo-OO!

Final chorus:
It’s the man with the iron finger
Yeah — Go ahead and linger!
As for that book?
Ask for a look!
And he will run away!

---

Good grief. It’s been a long week. And now this.

I think this is my strangest response yet to the Unicorn Challenge, which is a pretty simple challenge: Base your post on the picture and don’t write more than 250 words. This little ditty came in at 223.

Here’s a peek into my creative process which I don’t even understand myself: The photo begged Cautionary Tale. Am I right? Then, in the strange workings of my mind, I started hearing a didgeridoo which would explain all the “OOO-oooo-OOOO-oooo-OOOO-oooo” stuff. I suppose this is some strange children’s song?

“Thank you, thank you,” said Delia. “We’re so grateful that you came to hear us play!”

“There’s nobody here,” said Hugh dryly.

Geena kept hammering away at her keyboard.

“It’s this stupid name,” said Hugh.

“Oh, come on,” said Delia. “D for Delia, U for Hugh, G for Geena! It makes sense. Besides, here comes someone. Let’s start playing.”

Geena paused, while Delia called out, “Africa — by Toto! And a-one, and a-two–“

“Excuse me,” said the young man. “I’m looking for the animal rescue place?”

Geena had already started to play, but Delia turned to both of them. Hugh shrugged. Geena played.

“Sorry,” she said to him. “I have no idea.”

Delia paused and then said, “Let’s try again.”

Geena stopped while Delia counted, “A-one and a-two —“

A child dragging her mother by the hand approached. “I KNOW THEY’RE HERE! I HEARD OLD MISTER ANGUS TALKING ABOUT IT!”

Delia looked at them expectantly. The mother asked, “Have you seen any puppies around here?”

“Uh — no,” she answered. Geena started playing her keyboard.

“Maybe they’re further up,” the mum said, and they walked on.

Hugh picked out the notes to “How Much Is That Doggie in the Window” just to irk Delia.

She glared at him.

Geena paused for Delia to count into the song. “And a-one –“

“Excuse me,” said a woman. “I’m looking to adopt a pet.”

Delia snapped, “We don’t have any pets here!”

Hugh spoke up. “It’s our name. The DUGs. Playing here now.”

Geena played her keyboard.

---

This is my attempt at the Unicorn Challenge this week — 250 words (NO MORE) based on the photo.

Week attempt. Weak attempt. Maybe a little of both.