An older gentleman with white tufts of hair, circular spectacles, plaid shirt and a wobbly cane by his side blocked our path on the sidewalk. Iren came to a halt as we watched the man. He mumbled something under his breath.
"Hi Mr.Milton" Iren called. The man didn't stop or notice us, he limped towards a bench.
He reached to grab the iron rod handles of the bench, but missed, toppled over and fell onto the sidewalk. His frail figure was curled up in a ball. Iren and I flung off the bike, it crashed to the ground as we ran over to Mr.Milton.
We immediately noticed his shattered glasses. "Are you all right" I asked. The old man spoke gibberish and flailed his arms about. "Stay away" he rambled. "Who" Iren asked. The man pointed a shrivelled scrawny finger at me. "Her" he croaked. "She is the cursed, she just pushed me down!" he growled.
"No Mr.Milton, you fell just now" Iren spoke. "She used her curse to push me! Its her, I swear!", he said thrashing his fists. "What curse? Are you talking about my twin sister, Blue?", I asked confused. Mr.Milton squinted his eyes, quivered his frail lips and heaved himself up to his feet. "Do you need the hospital" Iren mentioned. "I will be quite fine on my own" he repeated many times. Mr.Milton stood up turned around and focused his puny pupils on my face.
"Wait, Mr.Milton what do you mean. Why am I cursed? Do you mean Blue?", I questioned.
He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "You will have to ask your sister then if you are not the cursed one!", he slurred. He pulled a bunched sheet of Kleenex from his pocket and wiped his forehead. "And you tell your sister, not to come near me again! I don't want to get cursed!", he warned as he hobbled to the bench. He gave off a toothless grin.
Iren rested his hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear "Mr.Milton probably has his faces mixed up. Don't worry, I am sure he is just confused and forgot to take his pills this morning". I sagged my mouth into a frown. "You never know, this town has a history of strange things. I just hope Blue is ok.", I responded. Iren picked up his bent bike. The wheels had turned in every direction and the handle bars were backwards. I helped him dust dirt from the main gears.
"What the heck" he yelled.
"What"?
"The brake system is cut"
"What do you mean"
"It is broken. Its a clean cut"
"Does that mean it ripped apart?"
"No. Someone cut it cleanly"
I looked down at a clean cut in the tubular brake chord. Little brass wires wicked out. "Im sorry this happened" I sighed. "Who would do this to me"?, He said saddened from his broken bike.
"I'll walk you home" he offered, trying to make the best of a bad situation.