a man walking down a long corridor. the sound of his footwear striking the laquered hardwood floor echoes far off in the distance. it is a dull place, for the walls display a well-worn cream color, and lighting is scarce. doors line the hallway on either side at about three meters apart. this man decidedly sees none of it.
his eyes travel in apparent random as he maintains nonfocus on any object in particular. his steady gate is interrupted only by the occasional creaking of the brittle flooring. he momentarily pauses half a meter from the wall on the right side. about a meter from one of the doors he examines an insignia on the wall. not of profesional making, but a careful form of graffiti. whole-heartedly assymetrical lines and shapes in a jumble that almost looks scribbled out. he takes note of each of this drawing’s parts. after finding what he was looking for, he takes one step back, turns ninety degrees to the right, and proceeds directly back to the place of his origin.
the elevator shaft, a small hole in which enables his enterance; he ascends. there is a certain dampness that makes the cool air friendly to his goal. this is the life.
emerging back into the night air he continues with his decided gate down the sidewalk. the dirty street lamps shine a glow on a limited area, leaving much darkness in between. a car passes and with it the sound of rubber against freshly- fallen rain. he lives in a split life, one of silence, the other of light. he walks most of the night in his black trenchcoat with his collar up blocking out the mist that continues to fall.
his mind remains active as he tries to piece together the puzzle that lay before him. all of the things he has seen in the past few years have placed him in such a state of confusion as to drive the average man to the asylum. now as he looks at his younger protege’ across the table, he wonders what it must be like to be from a broken home. this eleven year old boy has had no one to give him an example of how to live. no one has taught him to play games. no one has provided an adequate environment for this boy to develop; that is, no one until now.
as they finish the puzzle, their conversation wanders to plans after this activity. many other of the “big brothers” in the group are planning to head to a pizza place. however, tom decides that taking elejandro out to a local burger and ice cream shop would be more beneficial. it is a bright and sunny afternoon. they agree on walking since it so beautiful outside. unknown to tom, of course, there happens to be a sports park between the big brothers activity center and elaine’s sandwich utopia.
tom directs their path into jerry’s sports arena. he watches as elejandro surveys the area. so much to do! this was a place elejandro had only dreamed of attending. it displayed a minigolf course and lunar basketball, offered batting cages and a sand dune buggy track. but, the one thing he wanted to do, what he had always dreamed of, was to drive on the go-cart track.
it was a mile long track that twisted over a hill, through a tunnel; it was indoors, outdoors; and that was only what he could see from the street.
to be continued . . .
