Bite Size Babble

Sreyal of Meaning

The pathetic bundle of rags clung piteously to the freshly pressed edge of my slacks. A pair of human eyes stared from the largest lump of dirty garments, and appeared to be studying me. Those eyes made me jumpy. I don’t like people who inspect me too closely. You never know if a random stranger is actually someone working to find embezzlers, tax evaders, or the next Bernie Madoff. In short, you never know if random strangers are looking for people of my caliber. I’m not careless though, and I’ll not be caught.

The being was still clutching my pants. I looked at the figure, whose true form was obscured by the multiple layers it wore. I judged that the wretched specimen at my feet was no more than a nuisance. The only danger it posed was the possibility that it would ruin my pants and make me late to my meeting. My cell-phone began to vibrate in my jacket pocket, reminding me of said meeting. Only a few people had that number, and only one would be calling right now. Quickly, I shook the creature free from my slacks. It offered little resistance, to my delight. Its type usually was more persistent. I could think about it later, though. More important things awaited me.

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Sierra Walsh was a woman of purpose and today she was going to be a punctual one. There was big money resting on her meeting today and she wasn’t about to disappoint. Things were going well until she spotted a figure detach itself from a nearby building. The figure was outfitted androgynously in a collection of patch-work clothes and looked like much of the city’s lowest class to Sierra, albeit more dirty. The figure reached out to Sierra and grabbed the hem of her professionally pressed black slacks, which caused a spasm of distaste to flit across her clean, youthful features.  She could see a pair of human eyes hidden in the shell of clothing, and Sierra shuddered involuntarily. It almost seemed as if…but no. She refused to think such a ridiculous suspicion. She did not consciously allow herself to believe that this could be an undercover cop, searching for the person who was mostly responsible for the illegal disappearance of nearly $11 million dollars. If that thought had crossed her mind, the world would have become a much more paranoid place for Sierra. She quickly shook the groveling creature off her pants, and hurried on to business.

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Walter Holston vehemently cursed the moment he had walked through the doors of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. If he’d stayed home that day like he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t be sitting out on the streets right now, dressed in whatever bits of old, cast-aside garments he’d been able to scrounge up. Then again, if he had stayed home, he could be on the streets dressed in rags for real. He checked the recorder/tracker that had been designed especially for the woman he was to put it on, and felt his foot began to fall asleep. Again. He shifted his position delicately, and sighed. He hoped that the woman would come soon.

As if on cue, she appeared on the outside of his vision. He fingered the recorder/tracker and got it ready. As she passed him, he grabbed the bottom of her crisp business slacks. Walter did his best to appear miserable, and it wasn’t hard. The woman stared down at him with a hint of a sneer on her lips, and then their eyes met. Walter used that moment to finish attaching the recorder/tracker to her pant hem. He let go happily when she tried to shake him off, and then watched as she walked away. He could finally go home.

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Walter Holston shifted impatiently as he sat in wait for Sierra Walsh. She was the brains behind a recent Ponzi scheme, beautifully done in his opinion. Sierra would have appreciated the compliment, had she known. She wouldn’t have appreciated the presence of the rag-covered figure who had issued it, and she certainly wouldn’t have appreciated the tiny recorder/tracker that the figure rolled impatiently in his fingers. But she didn’t know any of those things, so she walked swiftly towards the spot where Walter crouched.

Sierra saw Walter a split second after he saw her, and her features displayed an iota of fear so briefly that neither she nor Walter ever knew it was there. Walter shuffled over to Sierra’s feet, reached out, and grabbed the hem of her new business slacks, feeling ridiculous as he did it. Sierra looked down at the pitiful creature clinging desperately to her leg, and grimaced. She did not need this delay right now, not with her meeting coming up. She glanced at the figure’s eyes and was unnerved by the way they seemed so bright compared to the rest of it. Walter took that moment of distraction to finish affixing the tracker/recorder to the hem of Sierra’s slacks. With his task now complete, Walter let go easily when Sierra tried to shake him off. She impatiently flipped open a buzzing phone, and left quickly.