Her grip tightened. The papers, limp in her hands, creased softly, tugging at the corners. Her throat growled and Sidda crumpled the papers in her clammy fist.
She crawled to the kitchenette, where the tea kettle whistled. Her apartment was, for the most part, empty; she'd brought her small things (a kettle, terry sheets, the Lamp She Loved) and three cushions, to sit on. The rest of the dusty furniture had belonged to her mother's friend, her mother's late friend. An iron bed sat against the wall in the middle of the main room; a tiny kitchen sat to the left and a small bathroom with a view had its door in the back corner.
Sidda poured the water into a chipped teacup, and slid to the floor. She blinked, tasted. Blinked, sat still. The steam from the tea made droplets to slide down her nose. The lamp crackled, then went out. Sidda flipped the switch back and forth, but it was dark. She shivered. It was getting dark outside; streams of light faded from the window.
Sidda sighed, placed her cup on the floor beside her, and stood to leave. She wrapped scarves around her neck and slid her fingers into the wool gloves her mother'd sent. A thin cockroach skittered in the corner; even the roaches were cold. Sidda slid her keys off the table into her pocket, and shut the door behind her.
Sidda felt her way down the stairwell. The cold rail of the metal stairs warmed to her touch. She hated the cold; Virginia hadn't ever been this cold. It made her ears ring and her eyes water. She pushed the side door open, slid against the metal door and stepped into the street.
Rounding the corner, Sidda fingered a loose lock of hair. Her hair hung wild around her head, like a lion. She watched the cracked sidewalk as she walked, her eyes turned low and nose burrowed in her scarves.
She was close, now. Pools of water and scum hugged the steps leading down to the tunnel. Faded, once bright graffitti sprayed like wallpaper on the tunnel walls peeled back to reveal dirty cement and hard grime. Sidda placed her feet carefully on each step, pausing before continuing down the short flight.
Light from the street poured into the tunnel. Crouched near the wall, a man sat, twiddling a twig in his dirty fingers, dirty nails. She knew him; Felix had always been there, since she'd moved in. The two had an arrangement: Sidda would leave lines of poems she loved for Felix, and he'd stay silent when she passed through the tunnel. Sidda wasn't one for small talk, or any talk at all.
Sidda stepped daintily over the puddles and scraps, careful not to make a sound (in efforts to avoid disturbing the quiet peace that whispered in the tunnel).
When she emerged from the tunnel, she sighed. She'd held her breath.
Felix sat in his tunnel, he hadn't had a good night. He thought back to the man he had "met" in the middle of the night, he wasn't sure if it was a dream or not. The sun began to rise, and the light streamed into the tunnel entrance. Felix liked the day time, the world seemed alive, and Felix didn't feel so lonely. He heard the light patter of footsteps and saw Sidda walking down the steps. It was the same routine every morning, Sidda would scurry through the tunnel looking nervous, yet trying to appear calm, as if she wasn't repulsed by the damp, rat infested passage. Sidda's anxiety didn't bother Felix however, once in a while she would leave short poems for him. She was unaware that Felix couldn't read, but he enjoyed them all the same. It was nice to have some human contact once in a while.
ReplyDeleteIt seemed to be about eight, so Felix decided to head to the diner, sometimes he could find some half-way decent leftovers in the dumpster. It's amazing how much food people waste, Felix thought to himself as he headed down Polaski Ave. It was cold, and Felix had to avoid the patches of ice that lined the sidewalk. He noticed a somewhat lost looking woman traveling down Polaski, she looked to be heading towards the theater. Felix didn't approach her however, he was aware that he made people uncomfortable and nervous, so Felix pretty much kept to himself.
After eating his breakfast, Felix went about his daily activities. Normally he would go to the playground behind Jupiter Apartments, and sit and watch the kids with their parents, until one of the parents started looking edgy, then Felix would leave. He really didn't want to make people anxious, he just liked being around others, it made him feel human.
In the evening, when it was too cold to stroll the streets, Felix would go to the local church, across from his tunnel. The door would always be open, and he could go inside and sit for awhile. Felix wasn't particualy religious, but the church was quiet and warm, so he enjoyed the time he spent there.
Typically, Felix was left alone, but today a strange man came and sat beside him. Felix continued to look at his feet, trying to keep to himself, but the man didn't leave. Felix thought it odd, most people would try to avoid him, so he stole a glace, and with surprise, recognized the man as the same man who had shown up in his tunnel the night before. Felix turned towards the man and with a curious tone asked him, "Do I know you?" The man grinned from ear to ear and replied, "Not yet." Felix ruffled his eyebrows and stared at the man, studying his face, but the man didn't hesitate, and after a few minutes stood up and turned toward the aisle, as he was shuffling through the benches, he looked back at Felix and with a sly look told him, "meet me at the park you usually go to at 6am tomorrow." Felix nodded absently, and turned back towards the front of the church. For the rest of the evening, Felix contemplated what he should do about the mysterious man.