Yellow Ties

Chapter I Feverish Followers & Follies

There was no remorse in his eyes. Only anguish spilled through them. The haggard wanderer had firmly grasped the woman; he couldn't have had his target yelp. But who was she? Better yet, who was he? The assailant's dry, rugged hands trembled over the woman's lips, now not quite touching them out of reverence. His young but contorted face gave way or perhaps directed the girl's attention to his eyes--the eyes of a mirage. They were eyes that searched but often were not seen; they knew but could not see, not beyond emotion. These green, glassy eyes darted, trying to understand the stranger before them. Each separately formed a tear. Meanwhile, the man's perpetually parted lips let out suffocated sighs. His brown, curled hair danced lightly in the wind with the clouds of mid-day, and the two-inch scar following his left cheekbone revealed something deeper than the frivolity of his hair, the tension of his eyes, or the rashness of his actions. Five feet and nine inches, this man, who was often forced to fend for himself, could have easily overtaken the woman before him--unlike the woman he had met a fortnight prior--but he didn't. He barely touched her.

Let's start about two months prior on the cold, clear February morning of Thursday, the second, 1995. The man aforementioned, Mr. Joseph Allions, stared at his co-worker, Alexander White. Peering over his cubicle wall at the lipstick on the coworker's collar, he abruptly asked, "Are you having an affair?" The next moment, Mr. Allions' boss, who was short, stout, and generally described as either psychotic or judicious, threw open his office door.

He called, "Joseph, get in here! This is the last time," he huffed, "now, I warned you. I warned you last Tuesday even. Karen told me you were snoopin' again." Joseph glanced over at Karen but gave a confused look rather than the glare she expected.

In response, his boss said, "Get over here, and let me finish. You ask too many personal questions."

"But Mr. Durverneck, I just want to know things, and besides, Jeff asks questions."

Jeffery, one of Joseph's closer co-workers, responded with an assertive, "Thass right!"

The boss hollered, "Shut up Jeff, and get me a decent sale for once." After a brief pause, Mr. Durverneck said, "Now you ... you're fired. We've had enough a this disruption, an' if you can't stop botherin' people, ya can't work here."

Any soul witnessing the scene would have seen a thousand emotions flash through Mr. Allions' eyes, but before he could reply, Mr. Durverneck plainly said, "Get out."

Joseph hesitated, so his boss turned him around with a pat on the shoulder and said, "Goodbye."

Jeff came around to help Joseph gather his things and to lead him out the front door. Soon after, Joseph was all alone. The world unfolded before him, filled with an air of uncertainty. He feared what would come; nothing was in his control, and perhaps much worse, there was no one to support him. There were all the people in the world to disappoint, but none who could appreciate or empathize. Those around Joseph's office front-doors--the people there and everywhere else--were ostensibly self-concerned, selfish even, yet they got along better than he. So throughout the moments he had to himself, Joseph pondered Why should anyone hate me for being interested? Why does it matter that I watch things, try and find things?

Allions' walk east took him to the local park in about twelve minutes. There, he found his bench, its back facing the lake, which was fifty feet away. The time was ten forty-five, and empty as the park was, Joseph felt an incessant buzz, an energy about him. This occupied Joseph for about ten minutes; he couldn't figure how there was so much life around him when there were no people. After all, it was the dead of February. Everyone was at work, and there weren't the birds, the sun, or even the wind to accompany him.

Then, into the stillness crept a silent, tramontane, young man. Evidently doleful, the quiet gentleman approached the bench opposite Joseph, which was facing the lake. About five yards down the narrow, gravel lane and following the park path's curve, the bench was angled and didn't face Joseph. Though instinct prompted him to go forward and console the man, Allions stayed put. He recalled his prior experiences and tried his best not to show any emotions. So he sat there, shifting his gaze, trying to look preoccupied--but by nothing in particular--and thinking that he had better composure than his time in the office. This evolved quickly into needless fidgeting, however, which disquieted the somber sitter. Ergo, the sad man walked away. But, Joseph soon after followed. He stalked the park-goer at a distance and crept along the winding path with as much innocence as possible. The other man didn't notice him.

After reaching the edge of the park, turning left, and traveling down West twenty-second street, the followed gentleman entered a bakery three doors down from the street corner. The game had begun, for games are always the best ways to understand people.