Solitaire
In the sleepy town of Blackburn, there lived a jovially humble old lady named Daphne. Known for her vivacious laughter and charities, her intrinsic fondness for a game of solitaire was a well-known fact.
It was her ritual, every Sunday, on a rustic mahogany table in her quaint library, she would spend the entire afternoon playing solitaire. The ritual had been her shield against loneliness ever since her beloved husband, Gerald, passed away. The house that once brimmed with cheerful banter and laughter was now eerily quiet, except for occasional solitaire game clinks.
One unusually cold Sunday, Daphne sipped her steaming chamomile tea, placed the deck on the table, and began her game. As she began arranging the shuffled cards, she noticed an unfamiliar card – a card that bore a striking resemblance to Gerald. The extraordinary part was that it was a Hearts suit depicting a knight on a horse, quite contradictory to the standard deck. The quaint drawing conspired to recreate a memory from her past - Gerald, in his military uniform, heading towards the Korean war. He had been the quintessential knight of her life, saving her from minor perils, and they were each other's hearts. This remarkable encapsulation of Gerald on a card was all too overwhelming, and Daphne was engulfed by a wave of nostalgia.
As the playing cards began a dance under Daphne’s nimble fingers, she felt a storm of memories breaking inside her heart. Each card revealed more stories, fond remembrances intricately woven into the fabric of time. A picnic under the cherry blossom tree, their first ball dance, his spontaneous marriage proposal near the lilac bushes; endless happy occasions seemed engraved on the cards. With every game, she plunged deeper into yesterday.
Though initially confounded, Daphne gradually accepted the unfamiliar comfort. Playing solitaire became an avenue to her past, a labyrinth of cherished memories. The usually silent room was now filled with echoes of their conversations, his thunderous laughter, and their shared joy. Though physically absent, Gerald's spirit was now an integral part of her Sunday afternoons. He was there in her laughter, her silent whispers, and even her tears. The house was no longer a shell of silence but resonated with the heartbeat of their shared past, bringing her much-needed solace.
News of the extraordinary deck spread in Blackburn, evoking curiosity and incessant engagements. Yet, Daphne remained indifferent to the sudden attention. Her solitaire was no longer a lonely game, and she wasn't prepared to trade this newfound comfort for anything.
However, one day, the magical deck disappeared as mysteriously as it had appeared. It left Daphne with a deck of standard cards, bereft of Gerald's tangible presence. Though distraught initially, she gradually realized that the magical deck had served its purpose. She no longer needed drawings or symbols to feel Gerald's presence. He was there, enlivened in her memories, jazzing up her Sunday afternoon with his essence. Each card she held, every game she played, she felt Gerald standing beside her, reminiscing their shared moments. The house, once quiet, was now teeming with Gerald's vitality.
Believe it or not, Daphne never stopped playing solitaire. For her, every card was an open book retelling their saga. The shuffling card against the quiet room brought music to her ears - she was looking forward to her next solitaire game, ready to revisit, relive, and reminisce their shared memories, one card at a time.