Building 11 “The Window Display Man”

I needed to go for a walk tonight. There was just no getting around it. Sometimes your body and soul just get restless, and the only way to get yourself back to where you want to be is to venture out into the dark and look around.

It was a beautiful night. The moon was out and wisps of clouds moved across it like a whisper. As I walked, I could hear my sandals striking the ground, and I swear by the time I came back home my soul was free again and I could finally feel like I was back in reality.

Some people may not think that walking at night in a place like this is safe, but that comes from not knowing it. For those who move about here, who live here, there is always the chance that something would go wrong, but that isn't why we choose to live here. We walk at night or talk to a stranger not because it is safe, but because it isn't. Because we talk to things we don't understand.

Don't get me wrong. I still prefer to walk with friends; but some nights that isn't possible, and so long as you know the route the danger can be minimized if not avoided completely. I don't know, maybe that is just...likw rhw qY AOMWONW REIWA RO XONCINXW YOU OD aroey rhw hS Hppwn ro rhwm onxw, NS YOU AWW ll rhwaw dULRA IN Qhr rhwy sis bur you liarwn NYQy. You son.

During my walk, I came upon a man sitting on his porch. He was smoking, or at least seemed to be. He would take a long drag from his cigarette and breathed out, all without removing it from his mouth. IF you didn't know better, if he didn't say hello, maybe I would have assumed he was just a display piece. But he did say hello.

“Good evening,” he said in a simpered, reserved tone.

I stopped momentarily. I knew/know the man from somewhere but I couldn't tell from where. He had a mess of a face, and I quickly made my way past him, but then he called out to me.

“Wait!” he cried.

I don't...I can't say why he called out like that, only that when he did it was damn hard for me to not listen. I turned around and faced him, my eyes fixed on him and everything else, my keys set in my balled fist.

“Please chat a while. Let your dad know where you are. He knows me well enough. He can vouch.”

I started backing away.

“Please call him.”

I felt...I wanted to stop. But I wanted to leave. I reached into my pocket and I called my dad, even though it was eleven at night and there was nothing in the world he needed more than to sleep.

“What's up honey?”

I filled him in.

He grumbled a little, but...I just can't figure out why he said it.

“He is a good sort. He is an old friend. Chat with him a bit. He doesn't get out much. I'll come grab you in a few minutes. Just chat with him. I think he needs it.”

I was going to ask if he had lost his mind, but he hung up the phone.

Something wasn't right.

I approached the man, and as I got to the porch, and I could smell flowers in overwhelming quantities. All around the porch were flower boxes, filled of all sorts of colorful blooms.

He did not rise. He did not turn.

“Thank you,” he said.

I was ready to book it. If my dad hadn't said it was alright...why the fuck did I let my dad determine if it was a sane thing to do? What the hell was I thinking?!

“So you know my dad?”

“Yes,” he said plainly. “You must be Naomi. He talks about you all the time.”

“Nothing good I hope.”

He chuckled at that. It was a laugh that felt more like an admission of guilt than anything truly happy or jovial. The light flickered a little, and he was standing up, the cigarette burning at the tip of his hand, ash falling off as the wind picked up and the cherry burned down low. Reflexively I took a step towards the stairs. I could smell him, the wind directing it to me. It was musty, like an old shoe that has been sitting in an attic for years.

“Please...don't be scared...” he pleaded.

He pleaded...

We stood there like that, me ready to run, the wind still going strong. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see the moon overhead, the whips of clouds having long moved on. Something about the man didn't seem dangerous. He was weird and looked funny, but...maybe I am looking for an excuse for being so stupid.

He was just standing there, then out of nowhere the yellow porch light began to strobe, the light flicking on and off in rapid succession. The light seemed to almost breathing in quick, rapid gasps. Next thing I knew he was sitting on the steps next to me. Looking up at me.

I couldn't find his eyes.

There was something about this situation, the whole damn thing that felt...familiar. No that isn't the word.

Real. Preordained. A chance meeting that wasn't chance.

Serendipity.

My dads car pulled up. The man just kept looking at me. I said goodbye and headed quickly towards the car.

“We aren't all bad,” he said.

That stopped me dead in my tracks.

“What is coming. It may just seem like it is nothing but the bad with none of the good, but...it isn't all bad. Things end for a reason. Things change for a reason.”

I didn't respond. He started mumbling.

I got in the car and my dad drove me home.

We didn't talk the entire way back.

I think I was wrong in a way to walk at night like that, or to go up to a stranger. But I had to go out tonight. I needed to walk to clear my mind and feel present with myself.

The moon was so bright it almost felt warm, like it was comforting me. It was a weird night. A strange experience. After getting home I watched the moon from the back porch for a little while, then took my medicine and headed up to bed.

There was a smell in my nose when I woke up at midnight, but it didn't linger long enough for me to place it.

It's a little off topic, but I want to thank you for being here for me.

It has really helped me out.

Sometimes I wonder how I went so long without ever having talked to you. It's like we are connected, but maybe that is just me being weird about it.

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