Dialogue - The Locket :: Dialogue Conversation Essays

Dialogue - The Locket At midnight, Paul went outside and sat on the bench on the old, plank porch. Despite bundling himself in a heavy blanket, he shivered in the cold. The eastern sky before him was dotted with stars, scintillating above the quiet spread of desert. A few lonely clouds were drifting by. Patricia timidly opened the door; hesitant to disrupt Paul’s solitude. As he glanced up at Patricia, she could see the melancholy in his eyes. â€Å"What you said today at the funeral was beautiful,† she murmured. Paul smiled sadly. â€Å"I just wanted to tell you that. Good night.† Paul extended his hand. â€Å"Would you join me?† Patricia took his hand and sat down on the bench next to him. Paul wrapped the blanket around her small shoulders. She turned to look at him. â€Å"I suppose that I have never properly thanked you for saving my life. I am sorry for that. I was not sure then that I wished it saved.† He thought about her words. â€Å"What keeps you with him?† he asked. It took a long time for her to answer. â€Å"It is my lot.† Paul frowned. â€Å"That’s not much of an answer.† â€Å"No,† she replied, â€Å"but maybe that’s all there is.† â€Å"Have you considered returning to Ireland?† â€Å"It is not a possibility.† â€Å"But if it were?† â€Å"No good comes from considering things that cannot be.† Patricia was firm. Paul considered this a moment before speaking. â€Å"I suppose you’re right. Where about in Ireland are you from anyway?† â€Å"I came from Cork.† â€Å"You do not carry much of a brogue.† â€Å"I have worked hard to eliminate my brogue. Jack mocks me for it, and there are those in this country who hate me for it.† â€Å"It is unfortunate,† Paul said. â€Å"I think that it sounds beautiful.† Her gratitude and pleasure showed in her eyes. Paul glanced downward and noticed her petite fingers nervously playing with a locket that hung around her neck. The locket was cast in the shape of a four-leaf clover. It was unique, and she wore it religiously–it was almost as if she had been born with the necklace around her neck. It was as much a part of her as her deep auburn hair and green eyes. â€Å"I have heard it said of Cork, that the sky does not rain, it weeps,† Paul continued. â€Å"It is a beautiful, tragic land,† Patricia replied.