Lop-Eared Bunny

She walked on out of town, where the houses got a little bigger, the sidewalks disappeared, and the yards were like little parks. That's where she met him. They didn't introduce themselves, really, he just somehow joined her walk, or she joined his, it was very hard to tell. They talked a little, going left down a narrow street towards where the houses end and the woods start. The last house on the street was a long narrow brown house, with a lawn that sloped upwards. There were several bunnies on the lawn, but one had strayed down onto the street. She picked up the bunny and they walked up to the house and inside without knocking. She put the bunny down in the living room, and they left by some glass doors facing the woods. Just as they were leaving the house, a man came around the corner and said, "Hey, what are you doing there?" "One of your lops was in the road, so we returned it," she said. They both smiled at him and turned toward the street. She told him that bunnies can purr, and he grinned at her in a way that made it clear he thought she was kidding him. He put his arm around her and they walked on out the broad path into the woods. They both knew this was presumptuous, since they didn't know if the other was involved with someone else. (Actually, she knew she was, but at the moment she could feel the emptiness of that other relationship.) Through the trees she could hear a couple of men talking and recognized the voices. "You should send her back," one of the voices said, "It's not working out. Send her back to the convent, even. She was a better nun." They had rounded a corner and could see the two men, one with a bicycle, stopped and talking on the path. One was a priest. He said, "Ralph, that's ... not ..." But Ralph was riding off on his bike. It began to rain, a hot rain on a hot day, on a day you don't mind getting wet. They continued down toward the priest with their arms around each other, and the priest, who she knew very well, turned and saw them.