Intergalactic Fly-Fishing

The Oracle ii

The old man has arthritis in his hands. He sits on the step with his front door open behind him. A young man is talking to him. People often talk to him. He massages his hands and looks up just as the girl walks past. She smiles. So does he. A strange expression flickers behind her eyes for a moment and he wonders what she's thinking. The moment passes and she has gone. The old man tries to follow the young man's conversation but he has lost the topic. The girl always smiles. It is a rare sight on a young face. The old man notices the absence of something. It is the young man's voice. He looks into the worried expression of a familiar face. It is like his in old photographs.

   "You haven't heard a word I've said have you?"

   The old man thinks for a moment. Words have always been important to him.

   The young man raises his hand to his forehead and tries to push the stress away from it. He looks into the old man's eyes and opens his mouth. Just then he hears music belonging to an ice cream van and turns to watch it park over the road near the flats.

   The old man looks at his swollen hands. When he raises his head he sees the young man crossing the road to the van. Good idea – it is a hot day. He rolls around the notion of walking over there for an ice cream too. The young man joins a queue and three boys walk past him. Two are holding the third between them. The old man sees the lack-look in their faces; they have no hope in them and it seems that they have lost their smiles. The young man returns, holding out an ice cream with strawberry sauce. The old man wonders how the young one knew it was his favourite. As he holds the cornet a soothing cool escapes into his hands. He smiles at the young man and sees an identical smile returned.