Waiting canals - 4

Both men had started walking shoulder by shoulder in the middle of the cobblestone street. After a few yards, Walters slowed his pace but Jameson did not. Having Walters walking behind him did not seem to bother Jameson. Walters, however, felt much more at ease following, counting Jameson´s steps.

From the street one could not see the canals that run on the other side of each line of houses, except by looking through the open windows of some of the houses. Noone else was in sight along the street, as usual. There were several cheap cars parked on the curbs. They belonged to the people living in the adjacent houses, since they were the only people that ever made it to this street. One of those cars had been set on fire months ago. Its burnout and soddy skeleton was likely to remain on the same spot for many more months to come. Anytime Walters walked by that burned car he would run his finger against its side and then rub the ash on the palm of his other hand, drawing a circle.

Walters was surprised when Jameson did not seem to notice the burned vehicle as he passed by it. He started to move closer to the car with the intention of collecting some soot on his finger, but he stopped three feet away from his target. A blue fox with black eyes was sitting on the remains of the back seat, looking straight at him. Several patches of his back and sides were blackened and grimy, but the intense sky-blue fur shined in many spots. Its black eyes kept holding Walters gaze in a tranquil stare. Walters was not sure, but he thought that he had seen that same fox in several places across town. Maybe the fox recognized him? Did all foxes were so blue? What would happen if he tried to pet the fox on his head, right behind his ears? Her ears, perhaps? Yes, Walters though, she looked like a mother. He thought about getting closer and having a better look inside the car to find any cub, but the mother was unlikely to like that.

“What are you doing?” Jameson yelled, quite far away.

Walters didn't reply but got in his way again. He repeated “blue fox” in his mind several times, but his attention soon faded and forgot all about it. He liked the intense green of the grass growing between the cobblestones, the sad red of the building bricks, the dangling pennants left from a forgotten party and discoloured by many suns, the smooth surface of the cobblestones. He liked to whistle no particular song. He looked up and saw no seagulls. He did not think about it, but he loved the shrilling shrieks of seagulls fighting for a piece of fish. So many cobblestones!

“Are you ok?” Jameson asked when Walters got to him.

Walters looked up, recognized Jameson and nodded. They kept walking, side by side. After turning to the right, they started to walk on the left curb, which soon opened into a park densely packed with trees.