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Clothing Makes the Man
by Mark Smith It was the buckle of a shoe, placed just so in the sunlight, that caught his eye from the alley. He stopped and peered into the garage. Pants, shirt, and shoes lay neatly folded not six feet away. From behind some moving boxes, fingers twisting her yellow dress, the girl studied him. He looked younger and taller than when she’d first seen him from her window — and even more like her father. The man glanced around. Then from down the hill a church bell rang out, stirring in him a childhood memory of an Easter Sunday in happier times. He stepped to the clothing and shoes, tucked them under his arm and was gone. When the footsteps faded, the girl stood and walked to the sunny spot of garage floor where her father’s clothing and shoes had lain. A small, hopeful smile. She knew that, when the man found what she’d placed in the front pants pocket, she would be seeing him again. |
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