He had seen her before; flitting among the people sitting eating their
lunch in the food court. She would walk up to a table of diners, place a card
on it, then walk away to another table and do the same. Then another, and
another, then she’d return to the first table in the hope they would give her
money.
He was always curious as to what was written on the note. She never
spoke, if someone gave money, she would thank them palms together as if praying
and give the generous person a small nod, monk-like.
He had wondered for a while why she never placed a card on his table,
but he observed she always went for couples or families, never people eating
alone. He could definitely understand the logic, couples were less likely to
try and engage in conversation whereas a person alone may. Also, a couple by default could shame each
other into giving some money.
Families were different again, especially if they had young
children. He’d watch as parents were
torn, some feeling it was a scam resisting paying while their children hit them
with a barrage of questions; who is she? What does the card say? Will we give
her some money? Why not?
He had seen this pantomime of unspoken challenges play out every day. It
left him wondering though, what did the card say? From what he could see, there
were usually three different responses by the patrons at the table.
The first, they ignored the card, did not establish eye contact and
ignored her fleeting presence as if she was simply a butterfly and insect
fluttering by. She would get no money
from them.
The second would tilt their head, and quickly look at and glance at the
card and look away. Not taken in by the
story placed in front of them. Returning to their conversation. When the girl
returned for the card, she would at best get a ‘No Sorry’ or a nod. In return,
she would gesture thank you take the card and move on.
The third, and from what he could see, she had a 100% hit rate on this.
The person would notice the card land on their table, pick it up, read it,
reach in there pocket and pull out a note, not a coin. So this meant they were
giving her at a minimum $5, is the smallest paper money in circulation.
In the weeks that he had been having lunch in the city, since moving in
from the country he had watched her and was amazed by her persistence at
playing her role in this performance day in and day out.
He could empathise with her, he knew what it was to feel alone, to be
isolated, to be a person no one saw. He had not long left his home town for a
job in the big city, he’d gotten out of there and was making something of his
life. Yet he was stunned at how alone he was.
As a call centre agent, he would speak to 10’s if not hundreds of people
every day, dealing with their tech support issues.
Yet when he went home of an evening, he would put on his virtual reality
headset and disappear into the warmth of an alternate world, a world where he
was the hero, and his online friends would at least talk to him and share his
goals.
The girl was moving closer now, putting her cards down on the tables
around him.
He just watched, she’d been here before and never ever put anything in
front of him. She was close now; his fascination growing even further; up close
she was even prettier, her pixie-like features forming, her high cheekbones,
almond brown eyes bewildering.
She put a card on his table.
He watched as she turned away to another table, feeling the flush run up
his neck, ending with a tingle in his hair follicles; his heart thumped in his
chest.
With shaking hands and dry mouth, he picked up the card to read it.
‘Lord Hightower, it is splendid to see you in IRL. I’d love to meet you
in your manse this evening, Evelyn.’
Lord Hightower looked up from the card expecting to see Evelyn returning
to his table to collect on his charity.
She was gone.
His head spun, who? What? How did she know who he was in his virtual
life, who was she?
Oh, stunning! Well played!
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