People on the Steps

Teachers

Photo by Kaffeebart on Unsplash

Had they been steps anywhere else, Prism would have been too frightened to sit down with the man.

In hindsight, long and well populated hindsight, Vince could have done something evil right there on the steps of the church.

But Prism sat, and spoke with the man who had amber teeth and an absent left foot, dirty hands and muddy eyes, a voice somehow, like chunky syrup.

Were they friends from that first meeting?

Yes, it seemed they were, though Prism didn’t know there would be a second meeting, then a third, then she would look forward to seeing Vince.

He smoked in front of her, but never near her, using his four pronged cane as a second foot and moving himself near the light pole with the banner that advertised the symphony.

Vince was a symphony, intent to share little wisdoms -students get a free bus transfer, take it, you never know when you’ll need it or give it to someone who does- who knew when to call intermission and listen to Prism talk about problems and joys, hassles and plans.