Grim

The old wall was splattered by a leaking sky. Its brick and weathered velvet soaked sporadically by a fickle wind, the shade of its wetness growing like a malignant cancer across its face, even as each sloppy drop smacked my own, etching the lines of a protective brow into my forehead. My glasses collected every splash as the heat of my breath rose up against my face, fogging up the inside of my lenses.

The carcass too was pelted by the globs of water – its grimace a dry horror, like a splinter lost beneath the skin of a sensitive disposition. I was out jogging when I had come upon it, broken over the edge of the curb, the throw-off of a fleeing spirit. Still swollen with crow’s meat, it startled me, its disturbingly silent whisper begging for my curiosity to come closer and notice it fully. The rain had just let up. It was early evening and the color of heaven was moody.

I bent over the pile of useless fur and noticed the likeness of life still in its feet, as yet unmolested by the scavengers of time. It had once breathed I thought to myself and wondered at its expression torn out of the bones of its broken face. No wonder children had nightmares after visiting the workshop of a taxidermist. The pointy teeth and cracked bone of the jaw were fascinating – their exposure frighteningly familiar.

I felt as if my staring were an act of respect and desecration all at once. Holding my breath long enough, I stood up straight and inhaled the fresh humid air above my head. The leaves in the trees around me sighed relieved in my decision to study the footprint of death no longer.


It was half way across the street, reaching into my pockets while avoiding traffic, when I became alarmed. I lost awareness of my immediate surroundings, trying to recall my morning, before I cleared the street and was shocked by the blare of a horn into jumping clear of an impatient driver. The adrenaline to my heart made me feel like I had forcibly swallowed something whole - adding to my stress as I barely noticed the swish of traffic behind the picture in front of me.

Across the street the skeletons of sleeping trees stood like weary watchmen over a mottled brown carpet of dead leaves. Somewhere along the path I had taken, I had dropped my keys. I could not even begin to imagine where I may have lost them. I stood on the rain soaked sidewalk thinking inwardly, hoping to tap into some remembrance or clue that might lead me in the direction of my abandoned keys.

“You look like you’ve lost something.” a voice startled me from behind. I turned around responsively, just to acknowledge the presence, and nearly broke my neck doing a double-take. Perhaps it was the fit of her jogging suit. It could have been the sincerity of her eyes. I couldn’t help the quick head-to-toe scan I gave her. It was instinctive. She gave me a smile that made me feel typical while she felt the pulse in her wrist. She had been jogging and paused here, keeping her knees up and down, when my imitation of a lost statue begged her curiosity.

“My keys.” I answered. “I hadn’t realized it until I reached the edge of the park and stuffed my hands into my pockets to see if I had any change to buy something to drink from the gas station.” I rambled, fighting to visualize where I may have lost them.

“Good luck.” She said, after giving the park a cursory glance, and was off. I had forgotten momentarily about my keys. Her butt filled out the seat of her sweat pants beautifully.

I felt a tug - a thought to follow her, engaging her in conversation while we both jogged, but was still preoccupied with the question as to whether I should look for my keys or count them forfeit. In the seconds it took to make a decision, I felt I had lost two things.

Suddenly the weather I was trying to enjoy felt a bit too chilly and I just wanted to hurry up and get home, take a hot shower and eat some tomato soup. I could smell the earthy sweet acidity rising in soft plumes from the hot bowl as I thought about it. I could feel the crust of the freshly baked bread, see the butter melting into it and taste the soft pull of my first bite. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my keys, so I grunted disappointingly to myself and opted to get some cider from the Starbucks down the block.

I walked into the store and noticed everyone minding their own business – like spies attempting to blend in. Only the girl behind the counter acknowledged me, in a way that made me wonder if the employees have their own special batch of coffee, off limits to customers, that kept them perky throughout their shifts.

I looked up at the menu and realized I was a rank amateur when it came to ordering coffee – I didn’t know what any of the stuff listed meant and didn’t feel like having any of it explained to me. For all I knew Starbucks was experimenting on the masses, looking for that one combination of ingredients that would have everyone addicted for life. This thought made me frown even as I ordered the best cider I had ever tasted in my life…


It had become windy outside when the door to the store opened again. I watched the papers in the periodical stands just inside the entrance ruffle when she came in. She saw me in mid sip and I almost choked trying to acknowledge her. She came over like an old friend and pulled a chair out for herself at the table where I was sitting. I cleared my throat to keep from coughing and offered a questioning glance. She placed a cupped hand on the table and, removing it, revealed my keys. I was stunned for a good fifteen seconds, studying the mess of metal with a reluctant joy before eventually allowing myself to experience the freedom of relief.

“I ran across these on the path.” She smiled. “I started to leave them in case you were looking for them, but something told me to pick them up.” Her eyes looked so friendly and the cider was so good, I almost fell in love with her for about two seconds.

“I’m glad you did!” I rushed to say, thinking I had let too much silence fill in between us while considering my emotional reaction to her finding my keys.

“I couldn’t be sure they were yours, but a little voice inside me told me that they were and that I’d bump into you when I finished my run.”

“Let me get you something to drink.” I offered quickly, afraid she’d get up and leave since she had returned my keys.

“I don’t drink coffee.” She refused politely and looked as if she were about to stand.

“I don’t either.” I cut her off, taking the lid off my cider and giving her a whiff of it, almost spilling it but catching my frantic energy before it instigated an accident.

“That smells good, but…” she resisted.

“Please. It’s the least I can do. You’ve saved me a trip clear across town with no money in my pockets.”

She considered my proposition and gave in. “Okay, one of those.” She smiled nodding at my cup.

I almost tripped out of my chair trying to get to the counter, which she found funny enough to burst out laughing. When I turned to her while waiting for her cider, she was looking straight at me, her face kind and full of curious thoughts. Enamored by her attractiveness, I sighed involuntarily, which she noticed.

“Careful, it’s hot.” I warned her, handing her the paper cup. She took it with both hands, her fingers softly brushing mine in the exchange. Her touch started my heart racing and the words fell out of my mouth like a pile of shoes stuffed behind a closet door...