The Picnic

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That's what mama looked like when she was a little younger.

Addy

I finished the book instantly feeling sad that it had ended. The story was an interesting tale about a man who didn't age or get sick and he couldn't die. Instead everything that should have happened to him happened to a version of himself in a painting. Eventually the picture of the man became grotesque as he indulged in all the sin the world had to offer.

In a way I could relate. All the scars that the years had dealt me existed on the inside. It was like having my own painting that hid all the ugliness.

After the afternoon shift a man in a suit appeared at the bakery. He was short but impeccably dressed.

"Sir Blake has requested your presence at the Hadler estate miss," the man said. I wanted to shake my head at how far Blake had gone to impress me.

"Mama I have to go, I'll be back in a bit," I called to the kitchen.

"Alright, stay safe Addy," mama yelled back.

I grabbed the light sweater from behind the counter and followed the man outside. A black car was parked a little ways up the road. The man opened the door and closed it when I got inside.

The ride to the mansion was short but serene. The house was a typical plantation house with fields surrounding the road leading to it. Instead of cotton however different crops grew. Songs from the workers drifted inside the car through the open window. Plantation houses were sad reminder of what my people had endured during slavery. I did notice however that some of the workers were white which I hadn't expected.

When we arrived I wasn't surprised to see that the house was just as big and as I thought it would be. Great big columns surrounded the front entrance with beautiful leaf patterns. The driver stepped out and opened my door for me. He led me up some stairs and through the front door.

I stopped to admire the wood floors and the intricate details in everything from the banisters to the doors.

"This way miss." The man led me to the left past the big stairs case. We walked through the kitchen to the spacious back yard, if you could call it that because it went on for miles.

Blake was talking to a maid asking her if she thought his date would like at least one of the dishes in the picnic basket. I giggled internally at the sight of him fretting over me. Blake didn't look like a man used to getting flustered.

"I'm not a picky eater and as long as there are finger sandwiches I'm good," Blake turned around and stared at me for a little too long.

He walked up to me as the help left us alone. Blake extended his hand, a dimpled smile gracing his face.

"Won't you join me?" I nodded and and took his hand as Blake grabbed the basket and led me passed the house. When we reached one of the larger trees on the property he stopped and started unfolding the blanket.

"You're probably laughing at me."

"Why do you say that?" I asked genuinely curious.

"I feel awkward," he laughed and sat down on the blanket. There was an enormous amount of food set out and there was still more in the basket. I sat down next to him and started putting sandwiches on a plate. A summer breeze ruffled my hair as I settled into the blanket.

"How did you like the book?" I asked Blake.

"It was odd, it baffles me how authors come up with such ideas. It made a good point about perfection though." Blake joined me in putting food on his plate.

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