Life · Original writing
There was one dry seat on the bench. A folded newspaper occupied it. Arun looked around, waiting to see whether someone had stepped away. A woman standing beneath a nearby tree shook her head. “It was here when I came.”
He moved the paper to the edge. She sat down beside him, carefully keeping her wet coat away. For a while they watched the rain drip from the awning across the street.
“That shop used to repair clocks,” she said. He had only known it as a bakery. He looked up at the round patch above its sign where something had once hung.
The rain softened. The woman stood and picked up the newspaper. “Perhaps the person will come back for it.” She put it beneath the sheltered corner of the bench.
Arun waited another minute. He knew nothing about her name, her work, or where she was going. He knew that the bakery had once repaired clocks. On his way home, he noticed the empty circle above the sign again.
Take a moment
What did the conversation change about a familiar street?