"THERE are moments," said my friend Annabel Lee, "when, willy nilly, they must all come out upon the flat surfaces of things.
"They look deep into the green water as the sun goes down, and their mood is heavy. Their heart aches, and they shed no tears. They look out over the brilliant waves as the sun comes up, and their mood is light-hearted and they enjoy the moment. Or else their heart aches at the rising and their mood is light-hearted at the setting. But let it be one or the other, there are bland moments when they see nothing but flat surfaces. If they find all at once, by a little accident, that their best-loved is a traitor friend, and they go at the sun's setting and gaze deep into the green water, and all is dark and dead as only a traitor best-beloved can make it, and their mood is very heavy—still there is a bland moment when their stomach tells them they are hungry, and they listen to it. It is the flat surface. After weeks, or it may be days, according to who they are, their mood will not be heavy—yet still their stomach will tell them they are hungry, and they will listen. If their best-loved cease to be, suddenly—that is bad for them, oh, exceeding bad; they suffer, and it takes weeks for them to recover, and the mark of the wound never wears away. But with time's encouraging help they do recover. But if," said my friend Annabel Lee, "their stomach should cease to be, not only would they suffer—they would die—and whither away? That is a flat surface and a very truth. And when they consider it—for one bland moment—they laugh gently and cease to have a best-loved, entirely; they cease to fill their veins with red, red life; they become like unto mice—mice with long slim tails.
"For one bland moment.
"And, too, the bland moment is long enough for them to feel restfully, deliciously, but unconsciously, thankful that there are these flat surfaces to things and that they can thus roll at times out upon them.
"They roll upon the flat surfaces much as a horse rolls upon the flat prairie where the wind is.
"And when for the first time they fall in love, if their belt is too tight there will come a bland moment when they will be aware that their belt is thus tight—and they will not be aware of much else.
"During that bland moment they will loosen their belt.
"When they were eight or nine years old and found a fine, ripe, juicy-plum patch, and while they were picking plums a balloon suddenly appeared over their heads, their first delirious impulse was to leave all and follow the balloon over hill and dale to the very earth's end.
"But even though a real live balloon went sailing over their heads, they considered this: that some other kids would get our plums that we had found. A balloon was glorious—a balloon was divine—but even so, there was a bland moment in which the thought of some vicious, tow-headed Swede children from over the hill, who would rush in on the plums, came just in time to make the balloon pall on them.
"But," said my friend Annabel Lee, "by the same token, in talking over the balloon after it had vanished down the sky, there would come another bland moment when the plums would pall upon them—pall completely, and would appear hateful in their eyes for having kept from them the joy of following the divine balloon. That is another aspect of the flat surfaces of things. And they must all come out upon the flat surfaces, willy-nilly.
"And," said Annabel Lee, glancing at me as my mind was dimly wistful; "not only must they come out upon the flat surfaces of things, but also you and I must come, willy-nilly.
"And since we must come, willy-nilly," added the lady, "then why not stay out upon the flat surfaces? Certainly 'twill save the trouble of coming next time. Perhaps, however, it's all in the coming."