Open Ransom


What does that old woman talk about? Simon watched from the corner of his apartment building as the little ancient lady sat on the lone bench out in front of it, talking to the air.  Her rambling never grew above a certain noise level, but she kept at it for hours.  Besides a chilling echo here and there, the noise pollution had died in this part of the city along with most of the jobs years ago.  The crumbling structure had fewer tenants these days.  Simon should have moved.  He would have moved.  If only he actually had the spine to do so.

He forced himself to take a step toward her.  While he'd watched her from this corner nightly for weeks, he never got his blood up enough to approach her.  Everyone must have thought she was a loon, but the only talk he ever got was his mother's rants about how he needed to get a job, move out and get on with his life.  So this woman's madness gave him a strange warmth in his heart.

He forced another step.  And then another.  She continued on with her ramble.  Simon closed his eyes and swallowed a whole apple in his throat.  When he opened his eyes, she was standing and turned toward him.

“What are you up to, young fellow?”

“Listening to you, miss.”

She smiled through a hundred wrinkles.  The head scarf she normally wore was gone, leaving her hair swaying like cobwebs from her tiny scalp.  Still, Simon could see a gleam in her eyes, which despite the rest of her, appeared pale blue and bright as a child's.  She waved him over to join her on the bench.  Simon sat down before he could think about it.





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)