Enchantment in the Pedway (1)
There was a poor car in the Millennium Park Garage.
It was a yellow Chevrolet Corvette, parking in a spot somewhere between the Washington St. and the Madison St., next to the walk lane. It probably parked there for a whole century. It was always there, covered with a thick, brownish dust layer.
I had noticed it since the first time I walked by, not because of the combination of the dirty yellow color and the fancy sportscar shape, but because of the words written on the dust: Worst Car EVER, with an unfriendly symbol below.
Childish act, I thought.
4 months later, I felt sorry for the car. It stayed there with shame and grievance, like a poor woman who was tagged as a witch in the Middle Ages and failed to resist being alienated. Someone left it in this cold, dark place, and let it being insulted. Perhaps it was not the only car being forgotten. The giant garage looked like a collection of the lost souls. Who would know how many stories were behind those cars?
Last week, it had been washed when I passed by. The bright yellow seemed like a sunflower sweeping all of the gloom away.
Nothing should be completely forgotten, nor would be. There would always be a way to reconnect to the world.
But who did this? Clearly not the owner, since the car seemed that hadn’t been moved at all. Maybe a considerate woman worried if her child would see the indecent symbol. Maybe the garage guard felt pity for it. Or maybe I did it, when I was sleepwalking.