He watched the sun shy away behind the tall buildings.
Soon enough, there was no trace of it other than the redness on his skin and an
orange-y color that spread over Maine’s sky. Must’ve been around five o’clock
already, but he couldn’t check since the old, trusty watch would live forever
pointing at three fifty four.
He kept on wearing it for the emotional value.
Perhaps
one day—which was fifteen dollars away—the silver arrows would wake up and
continue their never-ending cycle, but for now they remained as still as the
iron gates holding his back. Anita would often comment about it, tell him that
maybe if he saved half of the week’s profit for a while, the watch would be
working just fine by the next month, but he never stressed about it.
He
found no hurry to make time pass faster. After all, he’d lost track of it a while ago.
The sky became his only way of knowing how close the Earth was to completing
yet another turn on its own axis, and he didn’t complain. He’d always been a
fan of staring at that vast blue for hours.
She
must’ve caught him glaring at the peach-colored clouds’ reflection on his
watch, because soon her words echoed from a couple of feet away. “You still
thinking about fixing that old thing, Rick?” Anita used to have the plumiest,
sweetest voice he had ever heard before, but it was now replaced by a much
gravelly one. All those years of smoking were catching up.
Rick
gave her a funny face, shrugging. “Keeps me from thinkin’ too much ‘bout you.”
Her
chapped lips held a wide smile for a second, and he tried his best to freeze
the moment in his mind. He used to have a camera—not anymore—and boy, what he
would give now to capture those pink cheeks, which were covered by a light
sheen of dirt, and blazing, green eyes for all eternity in a single picture.
One that he would frame and maybe, just maybe, if they lived under different
circumstances, hang on their wall with a pretty frame boarding it.
God,
she used to be a mouth dropper at sixteen, everyone spoke about her, but even now,
at thirty eight and under the deplorable conditions they faced daily, she still
managed to catch a glance or two from hurried business men walking by. Though
none of them looked at her the way Rick did. He’d loved her since day one.
“You’re
too much of a good thing for me, Rick Learman.”
He
scooted closer, eyeing the velvety box in front of him next to the Thank You sign. “You’re worth more than
each nickel, penny, and dime in there. I’d rather see a pretty flower on your
hand than fix this thing. There are more important things than stressing ‘bout
time, y’know.”
She
tucked a loose, strawberry blonde curl behind her ear, and her smile widened.
“I’ll tell you something. How about you keep those and I’ll get dinner for us
tonight? Got enough for some of those fries and soda you won’t stop talking
about.”
He
began to shake his head. “Anita—”
“Don’t even.”
She held her hand up, a mischievous grin pulling on the corners of her mouth as
she got up from the old cardboard square. “You better start saving them to get
yourself a new battery. How else am I gonna get you to notice me if you’re always staring
down at it instead?” A warm, tingly sensation spread through him, and he
wondered if that's what love really felt like. “Now come on, I really do expect the
fries to be as good as you claim they are.
Points: 26
Reviews: 9
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