A story of a Changin' Wind #8

"You’re brilliant", the stranger said. “You love your friend, and this is beautiful. But there’s nothing wrong in loving yourself. In desiring something.”
“There’s more”, Penny said.
She went on talking, losing the sense of time. She talked about the guy in the office who treated all the women like shit. She talked of her aging mother, about the regrets that rainy days take with them.
And she felt better.
This was exactly what she needed: talking. Talking without being judged, talking as people once did around bonfires. “You really are Mary Poppins”, Penny said, more cheerful than she thought possible, after a long chat.
The stranger smiled. “Mary Poppins had black hair.”
“Perhaps there are hairdressers on the clouds.”
“Look”, said the stranger, pointing at the window. “The rain is over, and the wind has changed.”
It was true. The floor was still wet, but the streets were full of a mellow sunset light.
Penny felt good. The chat had worked its magic; not only on her, but the whole of London felt good. In a better mood, with a renewed faith in tomorrow.
The stranger stood up. “I need to go, now. It’s been lovely to talk with you.”
“Don’t say it”, said Penny. “You’ve been so helpful.”
“I like to help, Penny. Just, please, always be kind to yourself. And take care.”
The stranger headed towards the exit.
In that moment Penny realized she hadn’t asked her name: in her mind she had been only the stranger. She opened her mouth to ask it, but the stranger was already outside.
Penny reached the door.
She looked right, she looked left, she looked down the street in front of the pub, but the stranger was nowhere to be seen. She was lost in the red sunset and the changing wind.
“I’ll call you Mary”, Penny whispered. It felt the right thing to do.
Penny took off her broken shoes and went home.
She whistled along the way.