Two Places At Once (Mobius January)
You’ve seen it all?
I can assure you that nobody has seen it all — no matter how often the claim has been tossed around. Time and perspective alone — you know, all that Einstein stuff; serious limitations.
I’ve got nothing particular to tell you, just a bit of a glimpse, so I hope you can put something together, get some pleasure from this shared time. I’ll basically provide an empty room, with a view — and a few angles. Well okay — I’ll add a table near the window to put the loose ends on. Here, you take the pen.
I’ll start us off with a walk down the street so I can give you an example of that special perspective. No, wait — let’s have you instead consider this scene occurring at the bus stop from an apartment overhead; take the lofty view from this cozy room, framed art on all the powder blue walls, a fireplace crackling in the livingroom. It’s January, so you’ll be warmer there.
You’d might think the men were vying for a position as the most gentlemanly, or chivalrous, but in fact it’s your basic Pavlov pup training. They all step aside for the lone woman to get on the bus first — bumping and sliding around each other — and from up here they look like fluffed up little birds in their dark brown, black and navy blue coats — six very slightly different species with a similar shuffle.
The woman stands out in her amber coat, accessorized with scarf and hat in hints of orange red. Consider a female Cardinal.
Instinct propels her ahead and up the steps. Inside she’ll be swiping her bus card and scanning around for an available seat. This is a singled out example of every day behavior. Auto-pilot mostly.
After they have all bobbed on, the bus takes off.
Perhaps we can now take a glance around the bus.
Looks like two people are reading books, nine looking at their cell phones (including four of the six men previously mentioned), three looking out the windows at the city rolling by in the slow traffic, and the bus driver. The woman’s eyes turn towards, but look through us.
Here’s where I demonstrate: you can be in two places at once. At the least. Sitting on a bus not quite noticing people right in front of you yet seeing clearly someone in some room somewhere else. Someone that she misses. Even though she saw him just a short while ago, shared coffee together before she rushed out to catch the bus. Right where you are standing, near the table, she wrapped her rust colored scarf around herself. As the day progresses he will reappear and fade before her eyes, indifferent of locales.
The bus is now way down the other end of the block, you can hardly see it from up here.
She thinks of him, sees him moving his typewriter into the livingroom to be nearer the warmth. He’ll be talking to someone, anyone, maybe himself, maybe even you.
In her rush she forgot to look up and see if he was in the window, as he usually was, and as you know, I indeed was, and am.
So . . . what have you got so far?
Published April 2016 as part of the “Two Stories Up!” Series (2016–2017).
Two Stories Up! was an ongoing project that had AleXander Hirka and Tammy Remington (The Anomalous Duo) each composing a new (extremely short) short story every two months which was then sent via postal mail to interested readers.