behindtheax

as i wait

Pigeons of white and ash sit huddled. Their egg like heads pressed to the dark cherry brick. Behind them anemic curtains fill the window. Directly below a small dollar store advertises calling cards – a list of countries and the price per minute covering a quarter of its window. A stretch of orange rope lighting wraps the frame, half of it now only a long brown stain ending at the "We’re Open" sign. The woman inside, behind the counter pulls on a white cardigan. With one arm half way down the sleeve she realizes it is inside out and tries again. She has a blue head wrap. She is finishing up for the night. A young woman of thirty, no more, steps from the doorway directly beside the shop. The doorway that eventually leads to the window with the pigeons. She has a cigarette with her that she has barely started and is wearing a white t-shirt large over her smaller frame. With purpose she walks to the door of the shop, stops, drags long and then places her cigarette on the low windowsill before entering. The owner smiles. The woman asks for something. The owner turns her back and takes down from the shelf a clean, plastic wrapped pack of cigarettes. Money is exchanged. The woman leaves the store, picks up her still burning cigarette and re enters the door off the sidewalk, closing it tightly behind her. The owner pulls the somewhat resistant gate across the front of her shop window and turns off the lights.

posted by mary j. @ 9:51 AM