Non-Fiction Short Stories. Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion. Monday, Wednesday, Friday.
In a Budapest shopping mall, I spot a boy with one bleached white eyebrow. The other is dark like his hair, like his eyes, like his gaze. I begin to smile at him, and he doesn’t like that greeting, as he wants to seem tough. I grin anyway. He sniffs, looks down, walks on.
We run into each other at a bottleneck by the exits. An elderly couple in motorized wheelchairs have parked for a long kiss just before the sliding glass doors. They stop everyone’s movement. Shoppers crinkle their bags of goods, look up from their cell phones. No one says anything. After a reflex of annoyance, the shoppers realize what is causing the hold-up, then sigh and feign polite impatience while moving around the graying lovebirds.
White eyebrow boy keeps seeing me looking at him. I raise one eyebrow and he finally laughs. What a joy to navigate a foreign place without actually having to speak.