Exhaustion was brought on by what Theodora’s eyes could perceive ahead, not by the steps themselves. The road wound unceasingly in figure eights as the sky dared to smother nature in electric fury to prove her ownership of the beauty that dared to outshine her brightest spotlight.
She’d been staring at the sky from the moment her shiny red shoes were introduced to golden stones and her dizziness was a prerequisite to the rest the crows would succumb to along the scarecrows open arms.
Feeling scared and not knowing where to place her attention she stopped to sit on the yellow brick road and listen to the pinecone that had taken to throwing its seeds at her and singing to get her attention. She wasn’t sure whether the serenade from deep within the pine’s soul was intended to cleanse her thoughts or her steps.
The days and nights grew long and after a while everyone gave up on the Passion promises located in the Diocletian museum, everyone except Theodora and the Tin Man. Looking behind she saw his weary approach closing in on her resting place. Watching him she held one of the cone seeds in her hand before rolling it around her fingers and then placing it in her mouth. The singing stopped.
He reached her the very moment silence met sunset and without a word put out his hand to help her up so they could continue the walk. His hand was freezing but she took it anyway. Once up she thanked him, so he let go of her hand and nodded while his dark eyes held an emotion of non-expression.
Turning her back she began walking again but almost immediately stopped and turned around to face him with a question,
“Everyone else quit Tin Man and while you claim you haven’t got a heart, you’re the only one that has stayed with me. If that’s not heart, what do you suppose it is?” Theodora asked.
“It is the sun that keeps me pushing.” said the Tin Man.
“But haven’t you noticed it’s starting to push back?” Theodora asked.
“I have. I’m not pushing the sun away, dear, I’m being pulled into it.” he answered.