I was halfway off the stool out the front of Gelatomassi ready to chase a man down the street and throw myself on his mercy when Grizelda said very curtly "Its July". "Fuck!" I responded, "Fuck!".
I first saw him on the corner of Brown and King St, I had just persuaded Grizelda to come to the library with me so I could read the opening hours when he stopped on the corner outside the 711. I said "Oh!" and clutched at Grizelda's arm so firmly that I nearly toppled her over. He was tallish and wearing a corduroy jacket with elbow patches, a flamboyant orange scarf and I thought I saw the outline of a book in his jacket pocket. His hair was eminently messable and most important of all was the vibe of goodwill. He seemed a little sad but maybe he was just thinking. He crossed Brown St and went into Clem's chicken shop. I stood outside the window and pretended to read the menu.
A few minutes later we were sitting on the stools outside Gelatomassi, I am very pleased that they have sorbet as I can't have dairy, when he walked past with a box of dinner in his hand. He was walking very slowly and I thought maybe we could follow him a little bit but Grizelda said no. I was very disappointed and about to begin sulking into my fig sorbet when the nice man stopped. He gave his box of dinner to a homeless man! He did with such a quiet grace and a gentle hand. I was so excited that I was sort of half standing half crouching over my stool preparing to race down King St and somehow introduce myself and my sorbet when Grizelda unkindly said "Its July". "Fuck!" I said "Fuck!".
I don't think I have ever been so compelled by a stranger before. Maybe that would have been the story he told at our wedding, I was just walking down the street when some mad woman came pounding up the footpath and bowled me over staining my favourite scarf with fig sorbet. Now it is just the story of how I failed to meet my future ex-husband.
I first saw him on the corner of Brown and King St, I had just persuaded Grizelda to come to the library with me so I could read the opening hours when he stopped on the corner outside the 711. I said "Oh!" and clutched at Grizelda's arm so firmly that I nearly toppled her over. He was tallish and wearing a corduroy jacket with elbow patches, a flamboyant orange scarf and I thought I saw the outline of a book in his jacket pocket. His hair was eminently messable and most important of all was the vibe of goodwill. He seemed a little sad but maybe he was just thinking. He crossed Brown St and went into Clem's chicken shop. I stood outside the window and pretended to read the menu.
A few minutes later we were sitting on the stools outside Gelatomassi, I am very pleased that they have sorbet as I can't have dairy, when he walked past with a box of dinner in his hand. He was walking very slowly and I thought maybe we could follow him a little bit but Grizelda said no. I was very disappointed and about to begin sulking into my fig sorbet when the nice man stopped. He gave his box of dinner to a homeless man! He did with such a quiet grace and a gentle hand. I was so excited that I was sort of half standing half crouching over my stool preparing to race down King St and somehow introduce myself and my sorbet when Grizelda unkindly said "Its July". "Fuck!" I said "Fuck!".
I don't think I have ever been so compelled by a stranger before. Maybe that would have been the story he told at our wedding, I was just walking down the street when some mad woman came pounding up the footpath and bowled me over staining my favourite scarf with fig sorbet. Now it is just the story of how I failed to meet my future ex-husband.
Comments
I'm going there, right now.