Trojan Horse

Stavros stood outside No. 9 Hollybrooke Crescent. He nervously used the brass knocker and rapped three times. His cousin had set up this blind date. He was new in the country and didn’t have a friendship base or much of a family base either.

The door was wrenched open, and a freckled 8-year-old stood in the doorway. From the outfit, it could be a boy or a girl. From the very spiky hairstyle, it could be a boy or a girl.

Stavros swallowed and cleared his throat before letting a strangled “Hi” escape from his lips.

The child simply stared at him with a highly inexpressive face.

Stavros found his hands getting clammy around the small bouquet of flowers he clutched tightly close to him.

Clearing his throat again, he nervously enquired, “Is Joan in?”

Still nothing from the child, who was now peering into the distance.

“Where’s your horse?” were the first words to escape the child’s lips.

Stavros raised his eyebrows in confusion. “My horse?” he asked.

Suddenly the door whipped fully open and a veritable goddess stood in front of him.

The vision opened her mouth to proclaim, “Mindy! Don’t mind her. She often comes out with strange things.”

“But,” insisted Mindy. “You said he had a Trojan Horse.

Joan put out her hand to Stavros and invited him in. “Hi, I’m Joan and you, I take it, are Stavros.”

“Yeah. But what’s this nonsense about a horse?”

Joan blushed slightly as she stammered out her reply. “I-I jokingly said something…like… Um I suppose I must beware of Greeks bearing gifts. And when she asked what I meant, I gave her a garbled version of the Trojan Horse fable.”

Stavros looked down at his feet and heaved a sigh. “I am so tired of that joke. Maybe this was a bad idea.” He turned and walked slowly away, discarding the little bouquet as he trundled down the path to his car.