Abe woke early with a crackling restlessness, and the bright morning was pregnant with omen. A chorus of birds were insistent heralds of the aggressive Eastern sun, persistent beyond the blinds and pillows and eyelids, chasing him out of his barrow set uninhabitable and brilliantly golden as Lucifer. The house was empty of distraction and warm under the beating sun, the TV babbled and Abe had no attention span. He cleaned, he exercised, he showered and still had the whole stretch of day laid out before him. The charged air shook the trees, the new leaves rattled angrily, and Abe decided to take a walk.
The high noon streets were eerily empty. The sound of a chugging diesel bus stopping on a distant corner washed over the neighborhood, and the talkative morning birds had flitted away to their daily chores. There was a green Jaguar parked around the corner from his house, Abe wouldn't have remarked on it but walking passed the Vermont plates caught his eye. It was an older model, the inside littered with plastic bottles and the detritus of a road trip, it made him think about Vermont and New Hampshire and the people he left there, the ominous dealings he knew from remote safety, the reputations.
Abe cut through a parking lot and then turned down a brick alley that sloped bumpily toward High St, where cars passed and people were walking. The alley was planted on either side with Dogwoods, their delicate white petals giving way to heartier green and falling like snow all around him, the wintry cling lining the deep red of the walk and walls. The singular stillness of that moment crystallized for Abe and something in him tingled, the proximity of forgotten things set him on edge, the touch of a breeze and the gentle kiss of falling blossoms on his eyelids were no longer satisfied to be ignored.
He carried his lunch in a brown bag and set home to eat, some more time passed in the strange, sinister day. He crossed the busy street and ducked back up the tranquil, shogun alley to emerge in the otherworldly stillness of his block. Two men were talking in the parking lot now, one of them leaning on his truck giving directions. Abe didn't look up until they looked at him. Planting his feet and looking over he knew who this was, a man of reputation and mutual acquaintance who had not stayed in his own place as respectfully as Abe had stayed in his. The other man was taller than Abe expected, but about as lean. He had a hard recognition in his eyes, a troubled understanding that the moment was now. "You Abe?" he called in warning.
"Absalom."
"I wanna talk to you."
Abe dropped his bag and took meaningful steps, clenching his hands into ready fists.
The high noon streets were eerily empty. The sound of a chugging diesel bus stopping on a distant corner washed over the neighborhood, and the talkative morning birds had flitted away to their daily chores. There was a green Jaguar parked around the corner from his house, Abe wouldn't have remarked on it but walking passed the Vermont plates caught his eye. It was an older model, the inside littered with plastic bottles and the detritus of a road trip, it made him think about Vermont and New Hampshire and the people he left there, the ominous dealings he knew from remote safety, the reputations.
Abe cut through a parking lot and then turned down a brick alley that sloped bumpily toward High St, where cars passed and people were walking. The alley was planted on either side with Dogwoods, their delicate white petals giving way to heartier green and falling like snow all around him, the wintry cling lining the deep red of the walk and walls. The singular stillness of that moment crystallized for Abe and something in him tingled, the proximity of forgotten things set him on edge, the touch of a breeze and the gentle kiss of falling blossoms on his eyelids were no longer satisfied to be ignored.
He carried his lunch in a brown bag and set home to eat, some more time passed in the strange, sinister day. He crossed the busy street and ducked back up the tranquil, shogun alley to emerge in the otherworldly stillness of his block. Two men were talking in the parking lot now, one of them leaning on his truck giving directions. Abe didn't look up until they looked at him. Planting his feet and looking over he knew who this was, a man of reputation and mutual acquaintance who had not stayed in his own place as respectfully as Abe had stayed in his. The other man was taller than Abe expected, but about as lean. He had a hard recognition in his eyes, a troubled understanding that the moment was now. "You Abe?" he called in warning.
"Absalom."
"I wanna talk to you."
Abe dropped his bag and took meaningful steps, clenching his hands into ready fists.
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