Drawn In Shadows

Drawn In Shadows

"You find the most inneresting things in the trash," the wizened man said, his gray uniform and heavy black shoes in contrast to his lively gaze. Wrinkles settled over his face like fine netting, the laugh lines around his eyes the deepest. George rubbed the abandoned sketch with his thumbs, feeling the texture from the bright crayon scribbles. He folded the paper with careful hands, tucked it into his jumper pocket, and turned to lock the classroom door.

He took a few steps, pushing his broom in efficient strokes, stopping to tug his wheeled garbage bin along. Several times, he stooped to scrape desiccated gum from the hard floor. George's knees popped and creaked, but his smile never wavered. He continued. Step, brush, step, drag, step, repeat.

The empty hallway still thrummed with the day's activity, the children's laughter still ringing in the air, the slamming of metal lockers thin echoes. When George worked, most had gone home for the day, the lights dimmed. He worked in shadows, and spoke to himself.

"No one else to talk at," he said, answering his thoughts. "Jolene passed twenny years back, the chil'ren move on, living they lives." Brush, step, stoop, scrape. His voice was slow and easy, deep like river mud. "But they's happy, and that what counts."

He paused in his work to lean on his broom, to allow his breathing to settle a bit.

"Sometimes, the shadows, they talk back," he scratched his short brillo hair, his thick fingernails grown just past his fingertips. He listened for a moment. "But not today."
George broke into a husky laugh, and continued down the darkened hallway. After several steps, he turned and winked.

# # #

The little girl watched the old man walk away, standing in the hallway center until he turned the corner. She fingered the hem of her dress, and rubbed her patent leather heels together, enjoying the squeaking sound it caused. As he continued his rounds, she moved toward Miss Robinson's first grade classroom. The lights were off, but she wasn't scared. The door was locked, but she slipped right through. Inside, she drifted to her old desk and sat down, facing the chalkboard. She missed Miss Robinson. She always had lots of fun in her class. Little Charlotte picked up a pretty Bright Pink and started a new picture. Flowers, lots of flowers.