The "Daily Doodle" concept is intended to warm up my creative engines, and is essentially free writing, poetry or prose, usually accomplished in under an hour with a minimum of corrections. From time to time, I will post the results here.
In some cases, the piece will also be a special commission, prompted by a particular buyer. Readers can still custom order their own quick short-short stories: details here.
This particular story came about when I asked for suggestions on Twitter. @acomicbookgirl gave me the word "attention."
*
Justin picked
his point and he fixed on it.
A distant
window. Three stories up, two from the corner. It wasn’t in his direct line of
vision, not from where he was sitting on the bus bench across the street, but
that was part of the reasoning behind the choice. He could give it his
attention without calling attention to himself.
This was the
fourth window in the third apartment building he had picked today. Of the
others, one was a woman with kids, another was a senior citizen, and the third
was occupied by a large, hairy man who was getting ready for work. These did
not interest Justin. He was holding out that the law of averages would be on
his side. Keep picking windows at random, and he’d find one with someone worth
watching.
In this case, four times was the charm. The woman revealed herself about fifteen minutes
after Justin had started surveilling her. The window in question was her
kitchen, and she was doing dishes.
She was a small
woman. No, not small. She was skinny, so it gave the illusion that she was tiny,
but she was probably average height, her waist was about even with the sink.
She had long brown hair, and a wide mouth with thin lips. Her eyes were down.
The woman kept her gaze on her chore, she never once looked out at the world
beyond her window.
The bus came and
it stopped even though Justin waved it on. The driver opened the door. He wore
mirrored sunglasses and yellow driving gloves. He held up a finger to Justin as
he spoke. “If you’re not getting on, you shouldn’t be sitting there,” he said.
“No loitering!”
Justin weighed
his response. His first impulse was to tell the driver where to go, but it was
obvious the man had an authority complex and it wouldn’t do to challenge him,
it’d only bring unwanted attention. Justin just smiled and nodded, thinking, That’s right, close your door, you have a
schedule to keep. The exhaust nearly choked him as the bus departed.
A quick glance
showed the woman had left her window. Dishes
done? Justin was about to get comfortable and wait for her to reappear when
the same woman came running out of the front door of the apartment complex.
“Wait!” she shouted. She was waving after the bus. “Wait!”
This was
unexpected. Justin froze. He watched her approach. The second glimpse was never
this close. Contact was not an inevitable. And yet...
The woman got to
the curb. She was out of breath and bent over, hands on knees, watching the bus
recede in the distance. Then she straightened herself and turned. She looked
directly at him. He didn’t move.
“What are you
staring at?” she asked.
He didn’t know
what to do. Usually they couldn’t see him seeing them. Usually there was a
distance, a divider. There was a wall and a window. He was outside, they were
in. Justin stammered. “I-I-I--”
“Never mind,”
she said. “That bus was early. It was early, right? I’m never late.”
She was still
breathing heavy when she sat down next to him. He could feel her chest rise and
fall, her shoulder was practically touching his. He could smell her sweat and
her breath. He was fairly positive she had eaten something with cream cheese.
Cream cheese and chives.
“Did you get off
that bus, or are you waiting for something else?” she asked.
He was scared to
look at her now. He was only looking ahead. Pick a focal point. That fire
hydrant across the road. Look at it, don’t
look at her.
“I-I-I am
w-waiting.”
“Well, only one
bus line runs by here. So what are you waiting for?”
“I-I-I don’t--”
Justin wasn’t a
stutterer in regular life. This was new. He lacked control. He couldn’t even
harness his own words.
“Never mind,” she
said again, letting out a deep breath. “I shouldn’t bother you. You’re just
sitting here. You don’t want some girl you don’t know yakking your head off.”
“Er, uh,
actually--”
“Peace and
quiet. I get you. It’s fine.”
Justin glanced
at her in his periphery. She was staring at him, sizing him up. Her breath was
directed at him. It was hot on his face. The cream cheese was souring.
Moments passed.
And then minutes. Justin could not move. For all he could tell, she was still
watching him. Her gaze was locked. How long had it been? How much time passed
between buses? He had not been sitting there long enough to work out the
patterns, but another one came, and she got up. She patted him on the back and
hurried through the doors.
As the bus
pulled away, he finally looked up. She had taken a seat next to the window. She
was watching him. Her lips were pursed. Her focus unbroken. The woman’s eyes
seemed to follow him as the bus pulled away, the way a painted portrait’s eyes
follow you around a room.
The exhaust
fumes overpowered the cream cheese and chives. He held his breath until he
sensed the air cleared, then he exhaled. “That was weird,” he said. No
stammering. Justin started to relax.
It was the law
of averages. The law of averages was on his side. The next bench, the next
window, that would go better. It was all turning his way.
Current Soundtrack: Sonic Youth,
Daydream Nation
e-mail = golightly at confessions123.com *
Midi-Confessions123 *
Criterion Confessions *
Last FM *
GoodReads *
The Blog Roll [old version] *
DVDTalk reviews *
My Books On Amazon
All text (c) 2012 Jamie S. Rich
