Sunday, June 14, 2009
The other boy
A boy walked down a close to empty street. The street was straight, cobbled, and partially covered by snow. To one distance you could see green, high above. To the other you couldn't see anything. It was white to that other distance. It was blank. He was young, quite young, maybe six, and he was bundled up warmly. It was sometime of day. The street was empty now. In all honesty it always had been, right from the beginning. He approached the storefront window, but there was nothing on display. It seemed as though the store itself was completely vacant; he peered into an expanse of dark nothing. He turned around and sat at the foot of that window, and looked across to the other side of the street. It was peculiar, there was another boy there, perhaps a tad younger (five, perhaps?). He was dressed in blue from head to ankle, his shoes were black. He looked at this boy as he methodically dug up snow from a shallow embankment on that other side of the street. It was that other boy and no one else.