Sunday, March 26, 2023

Slice of Life: Day 26: Short Story

This is a few paragraphs from a short story about a guy who never strays from his day-to-day routine. The portion below leads up to everything changing as he is thrust into an adventure of self-discovery and healing.

I sat on my bench and pulled out my lunch and my phone - the low buzz of conversation on all sides of me. All normal until it wasn’t. If he hadn’t been carrying what looked like a relic stolen from the history museum – I wouldn’t have noticed him. Nor would I have cared if he had kept on walking. He didn’t. Heading my way, the man, lugging something in both his hands, was going to run into the bench. Or worse.

 I scooted further to the center, but he sat anyway and removed his hat, which he lay between us, revealing a woven, netted bracelet with a single colorful bead on his wrist. A breeze blew his narrow white beard in my direction, fluttering like the kites above the pond. Then he proceeded, with his white-haired, wrinkled hands, to type on his mechanical typewriter with as much casual demeanor as I had pulled out my phone.

Something was off. 

His aura intrigued my senses. Age had ripened his face with sags and creases. The smell of old age wasn’t mothballs or musty cellar but of nostalgia turning my unsettling ping into child-like anticipation. As the breeze carried his breath towards me, I was reminded of quenched garden soil after mom used the garden hose.

For the first time in my one-path, hermit-style life, curiosity struck me. I wanted to initiate a conversation but had no idea how.

I think, Hi, there! I forge a canyon between home and work, work and the park, park back to work, and back home again. Only to do it all over again. My canyon runs deep and echoes with phone calls, meetings and the hustle and bustle in between. I am told what needs to be done, and I do it. The encapsulation of my day is as grooved as rumble strips is a bit much for an initial conversation.

No wonder everybody said the same thing every day. It’s too difficult to come up with something original.

I turned and faced the man, his beard signaling the wind direction and said the next thing that came to my mind. “See the game the last night?”

He didn’t respond but instead rolled a piece of paper in the machine and began pecking. Perhaps he was mute and was typing his answer. A bold stance against today’s technology?

...to be continued

-rs



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