This_Was_Not_Written_by_Me.

“Tap-tap-tap-tapa-tap-tap-tap-tapatapa” The sound punctured the silence of Sunday morning Sydney. The tapping was uneven, echoing out over the Leichhardt street, picturesque in its peace. The noise was punctuated and accented by heaving breaths and shrieks of mirth. It could belong to only one breed of monster . . . two young boys. They raced up the steep street from the harbor, their effort going almost completely to waste, climbing the hill at little more than an adult’s walking pace. They dropped when they reached the top in a burst of panting and laughing. Resting for a moment, they look back down the slope. The heat radiated off the sticky asphalt, creating an ethereal shimmer, but there was a relief from the heat in the warm breeze rising up from the ocean. It presented an early summer morning full of promise. Even with the breeze, the two boys were sweating profusely, their white t-shirts glued to their backs. ”Would you like a drink'” one of the boys asked, pronouncing each syllable, in a careful accent at odds with the goofy grin on his tanned face. The other responded with a quick nod, damp strands of blond hair clinging to his face and neck. ”Where d’you live'” he panted. The first boy replied with another goofy grin, stretching his features wide and showing all his teeth, a few of them missing and all of them crooked but pearly white nonetheless. ”I’ll show you.” It was a house on a hill, just a block from where the boys were now walking; an old house and a small house, but a nice house. A single-storey terrace block, handsome in it’s Victorian architecture, despite its size. They approached the house with cool glasses of water drifting through their minds. Noise wafted from the open windows; a fast and excited discussion was going on in the front room that the blond lad couldn’t quite understand. ”Močiutė’s eating with friends, let’s go quietly.” With the tanned child acting as lead sleuth, the boys crept past the sitting-room, down the hallway and almost to the kitchen before a heavy creak announced the presence of the tanned youth’s Grandmother. ”You shouldn’t be alone at water Adomas! You will worry me to my dea-“ She halted as she caught sight of the boy standing awkwardly behind Adomas. “And who’re you'” She asked gently. She was a small women, features weathered with age and eyes exaggerated behind round glasses. Her accent was much stronger than the tanned Adomas, but she spoke English with a learned confidence. Adomas spoke as if fearful of mistakes, she spoke with careless self-assurance. ”Mathew,” the blond hesitantly replied. ”And my name is Jadvyga,” she answered gently ”He is my friend I met at beach yesterday that I told you about” said Adomas. She gave Adomas a quizzical look through her glasses, likely thinking of a way to antagonize her Grandson, who was still grinning even in his defense. She could tell he was having fun. ”Well why did you not ask him inside for a drink my lazy sūnus'” The teasing came with a grin, parting her softly gnarled features, leaving no doubt as to where Adomas had received his crook-toothed smile. “Would you boys like a drink'” she asked the boys. ”Taip baba!” was shot back with the enthusiasm of crooked teeth and a run home over hot asphalt. The tiny kitchen overflowed with bronzed pots and sheaves of garlic, but one wall was clear of shelves and practicality. Covered with a rich and exotic handdrawn wallpaper, it displayed a series of frames, containing ancient paintings, photographs and newspaper clippings. The centre-piece of this beautiful wall was a sepia-toned painting, beautiful in its age, depicting a group of people huddled together on the deck of a ship, wrapped in jackets, cloaks, blankets, and each other. The cold water was refreshing, and the boys were relaxed and comfortable once again, chattering about the seagulls they chased on the beach, but Mathew’s eyes kept returning to the sad enigma of the painting. It was some time before Jadvyga returned to the kitchen, to be interrogated by a suddenly anxious Australian lad, using all his charm available. ”May you please tell me about this one please'” She blinked once. ”Please'” Her smile returned to her face as she sat down at the kitchen table facing the boys. “It was painted by my hand on a boat that carried me away from my family and from my home in Lithuania. The lonely man in the front of the painting is Adomas’ grandfather. We were alone together and he was cold...”