Outside the Walls

He wipes the window down with his soft cloth. A smudge doesn't want to come off. He grabs a bottle from his bag and dabs a bit on a finer rag. This one leaves wet streaks. He wipes them away and follows with the fluffy polisher again. That one gocheh!

He gives his work one last look and nods. The street outside is in shadow but the higher walls across from him are still glowing orange and brown. He swoops up his bag and stops by the counter to hand over a clipboard. The clerk scrawls some squiggles on the line and hands it back, only barely looking at him.

Hmm. What’s that about? He pulls the copy from beneath and lifts it just above eye level before extending it toward the clerk with a soft snap. The sudden motion and the odd angle draw the clerks eyes up, where he is waiting to catch them. His gaze holds the man for a half beat. The clerk pulls away with a couple quick blinks and a split second tug of eyebrows toward each other. So that's it. “Thanks,” he tosses from half his mouth. The clerk tremors acknowledgement with those eyebrows too high for genuine. “Enjoy your window. Let us know when you need… something more.” He doesn't have to look back as he shoves the door out far enough that he can slip his tools through without having to hold it.

He pauses just a second before walking past the window. Sure enough, the clerk is staring. That one gochyeh.

He humphs and strolls toward the alley where his truck is parked. The city is just starting to stretch its legs after the work day. He tosses his bag in the bed and leans against the front to see what he might find.

“What do you see?” he whispers to his own ears. He pans the scene in one slow inhale. At first it’s the usual beginnings of the commute. More frequent cars whirring by in soft electric meows. People filing out of buildings, waiting for buses. Daily shop doors jingling for essentials. “Now, focus on what you don’t see,” he exhales, barely more audible than his breath.

He tunes his attention down to finer gestures, twitches of muscle, the outward manifestations of self talk. Slowly as a dream memory, the stories float out in glimpses and snatches no one means to tell. That one is way too self-satisfied. Her over there? Anxious. The way she avoids glancing around tells him she’s not hiding anything devious, just insecure. Lovers glide by too… no, not yet. Oi huss! He’s way into you.

A scruffy terrier trots by and sniffs a steady inquest. He makes a deliberate double blink and cuts his eyes in the direction the canine is heading. The dark wet eyes return the courtesy and snuffle on to the next invisible landmark. The owner doesn’t even glance his direction.

After an excited young professional, an Uppy doubting his life, and three individuals as Earthy as mud, a glimmer of sorts flashes down the street. That could only mean… He leans out to get a better look, then steps into the living flow. He marks the source: wavy dark hair bouncing out. He can feel a trail of heat from here. Faiyaa, yan! Tak tent. Luiks dangerous, dis huss. He may be too late. Deil, she’s movin’!

Soon she’s lost in the increasing crowd. Mo, ne. Still too outta focus. Must not be time yet.