By @silenttomorrows
'Some people' Donald surveyed the carnage, 'Bloody fly tippers leaving their rubbish on the heath.' A pile of bathroom rubble with a faucet handle sticking out of broken ceramic sinks and toilet pans, it was just awful. That shower tray looks new he thought, people just waste stuff, it could have been recycled. 'They don't care'

He often spoke to himself, a habit from living alone. He talked to the pictures of the people he had lost, he talked to his dog, he even talked to his car when he was riding in it. But actually, he was talking to himself.

Bess, his Labrador, liked the heath. Always things to smell, rabbits to chase. She mused around near the rubbish heap so Donald called her, 'Bess Bess, here gal'.

He noticed a kite, dancing in the blue sky, over the tree tops at the edge of the heath. A much better picture. Some of the gorse was coming out too. Dashes of yellow on the thorny tough twiggy branches.

He jumped in surprise. Looking down he saw that Bess had dropped a tennis ball on his foot. 'You made me jump gal, that ball's not yours, where did you get it?' But Bess was not going to give that away. Her eyes looked up, expecting the ball to be thrown, tongue hanging out and panting. A thin drool of slobber on her lips, ready for the chase.

'I say,... excuse me.' The lady was catching her breath through a half smile, as a spaniel came rushing up to Bess. The dogs did dog things as the woman approached. 'Hey, hello. Hi, your dogs got my dogs ball,' she laughed a little as she said it.

'Bess, you've got us in trouble here, I can tell' Donald said this light heartedly as both dogs looked expectantly at the ball in his hand'

'They want you to throw it' the woman said. Donald took in her looks for a second, she likes bright colours he thought. And then he threw the ball over the heath and the dogs both shot off as though that ball were the most important thing in the world. Which it was to them at that moment.

'Sorry, that's not the first time Bess has whipped somebody else's ball'

'That's ok, it's good for Dova to have a friend to run and play with. It's nice up here isn't it'

'Well it would be if people didn't keep dumping their rubbish here, fly tippers, I wish the police would catch them'.

'Yes, it's ridiculous. Will you report it?

'Tomorrow I will' Donald wondered if he seemed eccentric to the woman; up here running on about rubbish. He didn't usually speak to strangers, he found introductions and social chit chat awkward. He felt people avoided him, he kept himself to himself. Keep a hard shell on the outside and keep people from the inside, that's the best way. Like a nut. No, not a nut. He wasn't a nut, despite what people might think.

The woman interrupted his thoughts once again, 'The dogs have gone to the edge of the heath, near the woodland'

'I'm afraid Bess is leading Dova astray.' Donald replied.

They walked down the slope from the small bridge where Donald had dwelled on the heap of rubbish. The dogs were meandering back towards them as they spoke. Bess had the ball and Dova kept nudging his muzzle to try and get it.

'I like it up here', Donald said, 'I often sit on that bench over there, to take in the view, even in winter, I'm up here'

'Well I have a few minutes, while the dogs play. 'What is your name?'

He hadn't meant for her come and sit with him, she'd misunderstood and now he felt awkward. 'Oh me? I'm Donald Drew. Sometimes people call me Don, well not so much these days.'

'And this is your favourite bench? Oh, sorry, I'm called Masingita, I didn't mean to pry'

'It's ok, I mean you didn't pry. I haven't heard that name before.'

'It's African, I'm from Pretoria'. The dogs came and mingled around them. This Don, was hard work she thought. Anyway, I'll need to get back to the university soon.

They sat on either ends of the bench. Don had fallen silent again with a rye smile on his lips.

'What are you smiling at Don'.

'Oh, I was thinking of that old Simon and Garfunkel song, you know, "Bookends". I'm usually like a single bookend.

'And now you're saying we are like a pair of bookends sitting on the bench. Wooden old owls or elephant head, maybe skull bookends?

For a moment Don was frozen in a desperate moment of realising that he had offended this woman. But Masingita laughed, laughed loud and laughed long. In another terrified moment Don thought Masingita was laughing at him, but then he saw the funny side of things and laughed too.

He couldn't catch his breath. Tears of laughter. He hadn't laughed like that in a long time, years maybe.

'A pair, a pair of bookends' Don said again laughing. 'On the shelf'

'Speak for yourself' Masingita laughed, 'I'm not on the shelf, nor a wall flower'

They laughed again. 'I make shelves' Don said. Well bookcases, tables, Welsh dressers, that kind of thing. I can make anything you want from wood. I have a workshop in my garage, I sell most things on the internet now. Sometimes I have a small market stall at craft fares. I like turning wood, making bowls. Pine walnut, oak, they all have their own unique feel.'

'So you are good with your hands' Masingita winked and smiled causing Donald to blush.'

'Well I can easily make you a pair of bookends too', Don changed the tack of the conversation.

Masingita leaned towards Don with a smile and said, 'I have to go pick up my daughter from university now, this heath is on the way, it's been very nice meeting you Don. Here Dova.'

'Oh, what's she studying? Don enquired.

'Chemistry' Mesingita replied. Bye Don, very nice meeting you'.

'Er, oh, thank you. Nice meeting you too.' Don felt awkward again. 'I'm, I'm up here most days at about this time of day.

Mesingita turned as she walked off, Dova now on her lead. 'We'll see, she said cheerfully' Bookends she laughed.

Don sat back down on the end of the bench.

On the heath is a box for Naomi to find

In it is a canoe
A telescope
And one wish