The immaculate - 2
It happened on Christmas Eve, late afternoon. There was a stir of rubber reindeers and goofy lanterns flitting in harmonious chants. Lights arched out throughout the streets and hobos glided down the sidewalks, their foreheads reeking of stale cheese, while cabs honked behind the parade float on which a man with a red hood waved his arms about. Once again we met out of the blue. She was coming out of the hairdresser’s and there I stood in delight, enjoying my first end-of-year afternoon-off. I had thought on buying gifts, some pampering by the fire-place, of performing a sorcery of origins maybe, or just on enjoying my unexpectedly short holidays. She took off her glasses, shaking. Dressed in black and talking in perfect pitch, she was spellbinding and had a sense of provocation she probably was not even aware of.
(to be continued)