Blind

         A tall, concrete building loomed over the courtyard. It stood many levels higher than the surrounding buildings, casting its shadow on all passing pedestrians. The sides consisted almost entirely of windows although they were so dark that it was impossible to see inside.  The sun bore down on the city, only serving to darken the building’s shadow. The inside was kept cold in contrast with the now oppressing heat. The ceilings and walls were black, making the rooms inside seem smaller. The floor reflected the images of men in suits walking briskly to all corners of the building. One man’s briefcase slipped from his grip and all its contents scattered. As he bent down and hurriedly attempted to gather his things, one man, coffee in hand, stepped on a spreadsheet, leaving a dirty footprint on it. When he looked down, surprised at the slight slip of his foot, his eyes widened a little. He glanced at the man who was now gathering his papers, took a sip of his coffee, and continued to the elevator. The man whose briefcase had spilled was left to rummaging through his sheets alone as more passersby trampled his work.

         Several floors up another man also rummaged through a briefcase. His office was small and undecorated. The desk was scattered with various reports and statistics. The computer, an old, boxy one, was placed in the center of the desk, taking up most of the space and was now buried in papers. The man himself the regulation black suit, a blue shirt and a red tie. His mahogany hair was neatly parted and combed, sitting flat on his head. His face was screwed up in concentration as his eyes darted over the many papers that lay on his desk. They moved back and fourth as if he were watching a tennis game, then he would file a paper and repeat the same movements. Sporadically throughout this process, his eyes would jump to the door of his office. “President” the door read.

         The sun’s beams crept slowly over the man’s desk and onto the back of the man’s black suit jacket, adding trickles of sweat to the concentrated face. When the beams reached his computer and had begun to make progress towards the door that the man glanced at so frequently, he snapped his newly sorted briefcase shut and stuffed the rest of his papers into his desk drawer so that the surface looked pristine. He took a step back, shook his head, and took a pile of neat papers out of his suit case, placing them flush with the computer. Now he smiled, glanced one more time at the adjacent office and hurried down the hall. He pressed the button for the down elevator three times before waiting. The ding came and he stepped inside. He tapped his foot agitatedly as others came and went around him. He did not greet them, nor they him.

         When the elevator came to a stop he hastened across the black floor to one of the doors. Halfway there, however, he heard a call from a woman at a desk. Rolling his eyes, he marched over to her. The middle-aged woman questioned him as he stood rigidly, giving curt responses and nodding whenever possible. The woman persisted, however, and it was only when the phone rang that the man could escape. He made a break for the door and was outside before anyone else could stop him.

         On the street the man did not look up to view his surroundings. He nearly bumped into one woman pushing a stroller. He only spared the world a glance when he heard the rush of a car or the honk of a horn as he tried to cross the street. The only part of the street he saw through the corner of his eyes was the steady passing of the sidewalk under his feet as he hunched over his phone. The screen showed a graph with many lines that zagged up and down. The man’s eyes were tracking one in particular: a red line that was approaching the very bottom of the page.

         “Excuse me,” said a woman’s voice. The man looked up. He saw an old woman with curly white hair standing in front of him. Her lips were thin and her face narrow. She wore large brown sunglasses that made her face seem even smaller. She wore a white blouse, white walking shoes, and bright green pants that stood out against the gray of the city. She had a walking stick that she held put in front of her. She had been moving it back and forth as she walked, feeling out the path in front of her.

         “Yeah?” The man said curtly. He stopped in his tracks. He looked awkward standing still and felt still more awkward when he saw that the woman was talking to a point slightly to his left.

         “Isn’t it a beautiful day?” The woman asked him, smiling as if she had just offered him a box of chocolates. The man’s mouth hung open slightly. His eyes looked the woman up and down but he did not reply. “Have you been noticing? It’s such a beautiful day.” In searching the woman up and down the man saw the sky behind her. It was a light blue, filled with fluffy white clouds. The sun beat down on his back. His eyes watered as he looked into the bright sky. A smile slowly crossed his lips.

         “Yeah... It is,” The man agreed. The woman gave the space next to him a warm smile and nod then continued to walk along the road, moving the stick back and forth in front of her. The man continued down the road, his phone still sat, now unused, in the palm of his loose, dangling hand. He walked on to the bus stop, casting a glance back at the woman, who had now turned the corner. His carefully combed hair blew bemusedly in the warm breeze as he looked up waiting for the bus.