Man in the Mall

A short piece I wrote as part of a writing course in school. Almost half stream of consciousness, not something I usually do.

I see you, more of boy than man, as you stand, one foot against the wall, knee locked, leaning. I see your façade of cool and calm. Your wave to that friend as he walks by, the falsities of your face played out through the obvious subconscious movements of your wait. Hoodie unzipped to mid chest, the cross of ‘gold’ sitting in the V-neck I see, as you fidget, switch position, stand, pace and lean again. Your phone you check, 27 times (I counted), if for text or time I cannot tell. What are you waiting for? Mayhap for the rendezvous, with a significant other, so that you can elope to France, under the stars consummate, live together, away from the restrictive yoke of parents. Is it true? Wait you, for a love lost, one day every year, hoping constantly that she will show? Or perhaps your meaning is more nefarious, as you check your phone, knowing you have wronged the head of some family, your deeds of greed your undoing, waiting for the ‘Tony’ to tell you the verdict. Or perhaps you wait, for a substance not known, bags of backroom science sitting in you pockets. Or what if you are a Russian spy, a child cell, waiting for your contact, the manila folder of secrets hidden under the back of your shirt, half tucked into the waistband of your jeans. Or maybe you are an extraterrestrial- sent to implant and observe the human race, waiting for the mall to clear so you can be beamed to the mother ship! What if, or wait, or maybe or what, but no. Whatever it is, it’s not here, you glance around once more, before shaking your head. Planting your hands in your pockets you begin to walk slowly from the food court. Eye contact. Full on stare, floor to level two you see me watching as I lean on the railing. You stop, stare at my unwavering gaze. I feel the drench of cool as it runs through the inside of my body. I push down the wave of adrenaline, smile, and salute, a two fingered sarcastic ‘yo’, before I turn, and walk. Leaving you to stand, not knowing, confused, at the one moment of strangeness we shared, man to man.

Reviews

[Thesecuts]

Wow, you are really gifted. I'm glad you shared your advice with me cause I can really use it. After every word I read I wanted more. You're a great writer, excellent and I'm looking forward to your next piece

[Ashley]

Got it right on the spot ... I like it