And he does. When Zivia does come by and knocks, a voice rises up from the garden out back. "Zivia, is that you? I'm outside! Come join me in the yard?"
And when she does, going down the path beside the house and passing the fence gate, there is Mulcahy in the midst of his budding garden. Though there are boxes and pots, it seems like he's letting them grow into something that more resembles a wild field. There is a small statuette on the back porch resembling Saint Francis holding a mostly-empty dish of birdseed; a birdbath; and standing tall on a pole in the middle, a thriving dovecote.
"Hello." He stands up from the table on the back porch and smiles gently, if a little pained. "Thank you for making the trip. I'm, ah, a little reluctant to be in public, at the moment."
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And he does. When Zivia does come by and knocks, a voice rises up from the garden out back. "Zivia, is that you? I'm outside! Come join me in the yard?"
And when she does, going down the path beside the house and passing the fence gate, there is Mulcahy in the midst of his budding garden. Though there are boxes and pots, it seems like he's letting them grow into something that more resembles a wild field. There is a small statuette on the back porch resembling Saint Francis holding a mostly-empty dish of birdseed; a birdbath; and standing tall on a pole in the middle, a thriving dovecote.
"Hello." He stands up from the table on the back porch and smiles gently, if a little pained. "Thank you for making the trip. I'm, ah, a little reluctant to be in public, at the moment."