With love

February 7, 2011 § Leave a comment

See the tall man making his way through the throng at the station, returning his ticket to a safe place in his briefcase as he walks.

He could be any one of them, these men in grey and blue like the steel and tarmac and concrete of the street they’re moving towards; perhaps a little more trim than most, a chiseled edge to his features that others might lack.

These men are surging up the street to trickle away into their offices, their banks and accountancy practices and legal chambers, all striding, all buttoned down and polished up and neatly pinstriped. All sealing the worlds they left behind this morning safely behind that neutral gaze – a child who wouldn’t eat her weetabix; that man’s new wife who thought her husband might, this morning, want to risk being late for work; this man’s niggling problem at the urinals that he hopes must be nothing.

Our man, though, is looking up, towards the rooftops, where something has caught his attention. He stops to rummage for his phone, drawing a sharp word from the absent-faced man walking too close behind him. Reaches up and points the phone towards the end of the street, in hope of somehow capturing the almost-missed faint rainbow that hangs over the squat grandeur of the town hall.

An hour later, when his meeting is failing to hold his focus, he will find his thoughts drifting upwards to the thin pale rainbow overhead and where its other end might lie.

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