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Newspaper Salesman
10 December 2007 16:18Last Thursday, an out-of-breath girl with dirt on her face asked me for a place to hide.
I work at a newsstand. I watch the world go past me.
She was young, maybe nine or ten. She looked desperate and panicked. The street was crowded with the business rush. A sea of dark blue suits and umbrellas and there she was like little red riding hood in a forest staring up at me, a slash of colour standing out and begging me for safety.
Her eyes told me I had less than seconds to make a decision.
I don’t know why I did it. I reached forward and took her hand. She weighed hardly anything. She gave a little hop to help me as I swung her up out of the rain and over the counter into the newsstand with me. She curled up by my feet, shaking and wet.
I resumed staring forward like I always do. It was easy.
Three men ran past, shouldering through the ranks of well-dressed men. Umbrellas were jostled. People complained. One woman was knocked over.
The three men had long faces and dark eyes. The suits they had on looked out of date and worn. They were wet from the rain and they didn’t care. Something about them looked feral. They cast around with their eyes, looking for the girl. They looked at me and past me.
One of them paused, cocked his head, and swung his head back to look at me. I felt like I was being scanned by a machine. I stood like a statue and looked back at him with what I hoped was the look of a salesman hoping to make a dollar.
“Newspaper, sir?” I asked, passing my hand over the day’s editions.
With a curl of his lip, the thin man resumed the chase. Within a minute, the three hunters were long gone. I couldn’t help but think of them as a pack.
I looked down at the girl. I offered to help her up.
With a derisive smirk, she ignored my hand, stood up by herself and smoothed out her dress.
“Men.” She said in a voice more adult than her years. “So predictable.”
She looked up at me then. The flush on her cheeks was makeup. She gave me a look that told me that I had just helped the wrong person.
She smiled. Her teeth were filed to points. She made a quick movement towards me and I flinched. That made her laugh.
She spun around, crouched down on all fours, and with a sprinter’s grace, she ran out of the dog door.
I stood and watched the small door oscillate to a stop. I listened to the rain. After a few minutes, I went back to staring ahead and hoping someone from the business rush would buy a magazine.
tags
I work at a newsstand. I watch the world go past me.
She was young, maybe nine or ten. She looked desperate and panicked. The street was crowded with the business rush. A sea of dark blue suits and umbrellas and there she was like little red riding hood in a forest staring up at me, a slash of colour standing out and begging me for safety.
Her eyes told me I had less than seconds to make a decision.
I don’t know why I did it. I reached forward and took her hand. She weighed hardly anything. She gave a little hop to help me as I swung her up out of the rain and over the counter into the newsstand with me. She curled up by my feet, shaking and wet.
I resumed staring forward like I always do. It was easy.
Three men ran past, shouldering through the ranks of well-dressed men. Umbrellas were jostled. People complained. One woman was knocked over.
The three men had long faces and dark eyes. The suits they had on looked out of date and worn. They were wet from the rain and they didn’t care. Something about them looked feral. They cast around with their eyes, looking for the girl. They looked at me and past me.
One of them paused, cocked his head, and swung his head back to look at me. I felt like I was being scanned by a machine. I stood like a statue and looked back at him with what I hoped was the look of a salesman hoping to make a dollar.
“Newspaper, sir?” I asked, passing my hand over the day’s editions.
With a curl of his lip, the thin man resumed the chase. Within a minute, the three hunters were long gone. I couldn’t help but think of them as a pack.
I looked down at the girl. I offered to help her up.
With a derisive smirk, she ignored my hand, stood up by herself and smoothed out her dress.
“Men.” She said in a voice more adult than her years. “So predictable.”
She looked up at me then. The flush on her cheeks was makeup. She gave me a look that told me that I had just helped the wrong person.
She smiled. Her teeth were filed to points. She made a quick movement towards me and I flinched. That made her laugh.
She spun around, crouched down on all fours, and with a sprinter’s grace, she ran out of the dog door.
I stood and watched the small door oscillate to a stop. I listened to the rain. After a few minutes, I went back to staring ahead and hoping someone from the business rush would buy a magazine.
tags
