Epilogue
‘Pull up at the corner,’ said V to the taxi driver. He paid, stepped out onto the sidewalk, and crossed it to assume an attitude of a loafer by the wall who had plenty of time and no idea as to how to whittle it away.
Thick unending throng of passers-by rolled past him. An infinite variety of rags and maps drifted by along the wide sidewalk in waves nearing and going, approaching and disappearing. They walked in twos and threes, and individually, rubbing shoulders with or dodging others. They talked business, shared rumors, argued hotly, laughed along or gave orders over their phones for that was a usual everyday crowd, all kinds of sorts, walking on, on, and on, the streams of fellow walkers in both directions at once.
Each one in their own casual wear mask invariably put on in public, the regular face expression ideal for the occasion when you’re a particle in the crows floating by V with his back leaned against the wall.
Neither he nor the wall impeded the mutual motion, both behaved decently, and did not interfere with the counter directional tide. We won’t make conjectures about the wall’s motives for falling in with that particular line of behavior while V as, hopefully, had been mentioned—and if not, then mark it well right now, it’s never late to learn—was a good-humored sociopath by his nature.
So, yes, that way he hanged there out waiting for her to turn up, in the attitude of a personage from an old naive romance or a movie, forgotten, black-and-white, who also stands so and waits for the sail to pop up in the radiance over the distant horizon, black-and white too.
Is he in love then? Think before opening your piehole, young man. This word got deprecated and almost taboo in the current millennium. We won’t deny that he tends to like her (much fucking more acceptable, see?) even though he does not shower her with likes because of his allergy to social nets. Yet, on the whole, he likes her that’s why he stands waiting there for her to pass by that corner because he knows where exactly she’ll be going to. Besides, he’s not having much to do now and he just fancied to shake his leg a bit tagging along with her in the same swaying wave of the crowd tide.
Ha! See? Didn’t I tell you? He’s made her fine figure out at last, about a half-block off. Where she walks wearing her personal mask of facial expression for public occasions. (All the world is a theater, remember?) Her visage is dimmed and not yet quite discernible, like the features in the map of the eternal companion of our planet.
But even at that distance he still both liked and admired the intent in her purposeful strides, even though her legs were not seen, screened off by the preceding waves of pedestrians. But he knew all the same that those were just classy, her legs were. Yeah, he knew it.
Patience, V! All comes in the proper time to those who can wait.
’Hi. Lia! You’re, looks like, taking a stroll to the commons? Mind a well-bred tagger along?
‘O, hi, V! How are you?’
Yes, he guessed it right, she’s wearing a skirt, not mini yet generous enough to not hide her knees, those heart-breaking knees killing—with modest tastefulness—on sight.
‘I’m fine, thanks. Just have to idle a couple of hours.’
V felt a firm pull at his pant leg.
‘Oh, hello cutie!’ He stooped over to pick up from the sidewalk the shaggy ball of a small dog.
Toto let out a happy yelp and licked V’s nose with her slick tongue of that slightly pink hue noticeable in jewelry items made of BERYL (if you are not aware enough to dig it what this here detail has just hinted at).
But if you’re still in the dark what’s what, why, we can start the whole story over again…
(Relax, I’m kidding… as of yet. So long, pal.)
The ¿Happy? End
[The book is free for download at