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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2065661-Semblance
Rated: E · Short Story · Drama · #2065661
A short short story about a boy going on a date.
Semblance


I wasnât born until late in the November. The birds had either died of cold or were in their nests somewhere in the city, that is, if the cement walls of the city allowed it. The snow had covered the city and a cold breeze would freeze the brittle bones of all the pedestrians in the sidewalks. I, too, walked, unaware of my footprints in the snow. Strangely, I passed what I thought was a series of handprints. Who could have walked on their hands for so long? Or maybe they did a handstand and could not turn back to being right side up again. It was not too early in the morning, but there were not many people in the streets. They all walked in solitude, so did I. I guess the cold was too much to handle for most other people. There was a rusty-old hotdog stand which seemed to have been abandoned by the side of the street. A red and yellow hotdog sign was gradually fading on the side. On closer inspection, I realized that the fading hotdog was home to a homeless man, who was either asleep or dead from the cold, both of which seemed to converge at some point.
I crossed to the other side of the street and continued walking with no haste. There was a poor boy by the sidewalk selling flowers. They were cheap for my purpose but I bought a few anyway; I could not show up empty-handed. Their red color stood out against the black of my jacket and the white snow. Most shops were closed, only cafes were open. I would look inside as I walked passed them and, even though I was outside, I could feel the warm feeling of being inside, of the decorative hearth and of the hot coffees.
In some spots the snow had turned into stiff ice and the occasional pedestrian would slip and fall. I personally saw two cases where a kid fell and immediately bounced back up and ran away, and an old man who slipped and unfortunately broke his hip. I also heard a loud drifting sound and then a bang, which I reckon was a car accident that had happened a few blocks away.
I did not have much money, so when I passed a gift shop, I also bought something of little value to go with the flowers. I am not really the kind of guy who would buy gifts, but once again, one cannot show up to these things empty-handed. It was a small gift wrapped in pink paper and it made people look. One could not blame them either; the red flowers and the bright pink box were a bit of an attention-seeker.
One type of folk who still seemed to be working on this blistering winter were the beggars. They kept coming my way and begging for money at every corner and I, being the anxious introvert that I am, just kept on walking. I wanted to help them but I also did not know which one to help, so I pretended not see them at all. It seemed the only viable option. In the cold, apparently they usually occupied the space in front of the coffee shops for warmth which was followed by the constant bickering of the owner of the shop.
I fortunately passed the last coffee shop on my way and walked toward my intended destination, which was also a coffee shop. The shop was located a little higher on the city-map than I usually venture so it seemed only natural for the snow to get heavier. The flowers and the gift were ready in my hands. A tall boy stood out in front of the coffee shop. As I got closer a girl walked out and, with a smile, kissed the boy. I walked passed them and went inside. I looked around for my girlfriend but she was not there. If she had not arrived by then, then she was not coming because I was already ten minutes late. So, I left the coffee shop.
Outside the boy and the girl still seemed to be fooling around and I realized that I had left my flowers and the gift inside, but I did not go back in; someone would make use of them anyway. I took one last look at the boy and the girl and started walking home and I thought, âthe girl sure looked like my girlfriendâ.

© Copyright 2015 J. G. Graham (jggraham at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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