I saw the-person-who-doesn’t-live-here-any-more’s car again
today. It might be recalled that such sightings have become a notable and mildly
mysterious feature of my mundane life lately, but today it presented a different
face. It was dirty.
Now, to understand the significance of this seemingly
insignificant fact, you need first to understand that the-person-who-doesn’t-live-here-any-more’s
car is one of the world’s shining things (much like the-person-who-doesn’t-live-here-any-more,
which may or may not be coincidental.) Its predecessor wasn’t always so
blessed; I’ve known times when its predecessor looked very much as though it
were making a triumphant and excessively mud-spattered return from the Paris to
Dakar rally – it having been decked out in the renowned British racing green
livery an’ all – but the latest steed of Germanic origin is a more refined
creature. It shines as if by magic, settled to its more mature role in a changing
world. And so to see it dirty was a shock. Maybe it was camouflaged to protect
it from the prying eyes of ne’er-do-wells like yours truly. Or maybe I’m
presuming an improbable significance. I think I probably am.
I’m in a strange mood tonight. Intriguing creatures lurk
deep inside somewhere: fabled and fantastical creatures, shifting and shimmying,
calling in ancient voices to stir the blood of fervent and fertile imagination.
I can’t ignore them, and why should I?
And they’re not quite as strange as the man who stared at me
with dark eyes filled with malevolent intent while I waited in the queue for
the kiosk in the Co-op today. Or maybe his stare was more maniacal than malevolent.
Yes, I do believe it to be so. A swift perusal of his body language and general
demeanour led me to believe that he was a little removed from the normal
avenues of perception within which most of us function. He was accompanied by
an old lady, and he was greedily consuming some pastry comestible which I
assumed had not yet been paid for.
I’m old enough to know the type; I’ve encountered them
before; I know that those so afflicted can turn on a whim and do dire things
because consequences are of no consequence to them. And so I declined to return
the stare, but stood my ground with an air of studied nonchalance. I got away with
it. I might not always be so lucky. (And
all I wanted was a bottle of milk.)
All this from watching a Harry Potter movie… I shouldn’t do
it, you know; I really shouldn’t. Is my reputation safe, I wonder?
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