Silver. The rain pelted the roadways making its surface appear like silver. The gleam of the sun, though murky and distant, still left its impression dispersed comfortably across the city. From a distance, up and above, unrelenting yet soothing, uncaring to who was below and disenchanted for a future it can’t control. The sun was a blessing despite its coating of cloud and gray. A few of the sun’s murky rays still dripped to the surface.
Seattle lit up rather dimly in that afternoon no more dim than any other opposing afternoon, but still dim enough to make any outsider realize the dim nature of the city- the dim nature of it all.
Kevin sloped even deeper into reclination. His grizzly hands landed complacently against the concrete floor below. A pebble smacked his face with enough pressure to stir Kevin to the side. Maybe it came from a tree? Maybe it was thrown by a boy? Maybe the wind picked it up and carried it upon the velvet surface of Kevin’s deterred old face?
Kevin again, unabashed by the brisk Seattle air, leaned further into the bench, still as comfortable as before…as whimsical as any. The rain let up a bit and Kevin let his hood relax, showcasing even more of his reptilian nature to any unsuspecting street civilian who just so happened to pace on by. It was a rather entrenching position to be in. The awkward nature of being in the vicinity of a homeless man is always one to question, but even heightened when that man is Kevin. A large, encompassing man, Kevin stood tall. Though slouched as if his back was unable to uphold the pressure of his head and skull, he still contained height intimidating to a Seattle citizen. His hands were drenched in hair, thicker than his skin, and his beard gripping like handles around the side of his face only further embodied the stereotypical style presented. Kevin’s eyes hung heavy, a ditch in a field, they dug in concave and surrounded by webbing and raw skin.
Anyone who walked by took that ever precarious step towards the street remaining as far as respectfully possible without alluding attention to just the level of uncomfortable they held tight. Kevin was not one to approach. If Kevin came, arms outstretched, smiling deeply, even the other homeless would be disturbed by his image.
Kevin was aware of this. Though it bothered him in the beginning, with his unsettling stares at those who are disturbed by his style and look, he begin to dissuade such rude behavior. “They don’t know me?” They just don’t understand. They will come around when they meet me.” Kevin remarked to himself. Though he never spoke these things allowed- an insane homeless man is monumentally more precarious.
Though Kevin was undeniably aware of the typical reaction he recieved, that failed to deter him off that bench and down the street, into the market to apply for work, into the station to collect cash for tricks. Even a quick shave could be obtained from a few friends he met during his stint as a homeless man…those friends who now had an apartment and were struggling towards solidarity.
It was uneventful to be homeless in Seattle. The winter and fall were enduring times, and only a thick-skinned peach like Kevin could outlast the sneering and resting cold air of the early year. He always thought of moving South, down into the valley or into the irregular confines of California suburbia.
Perhaps it was Seattle’s pretty skies that kept him loyal and intact.
Kevin became hungry. He began stirring along the bench, switching sides periodically, turning ones to face forward towards the sidewalk, startling a family of three who were walking ever-so-slow to their destination. He turned back around, putting even more pressure on his shoulder- he preferred to face away.
It was getting much later in the day and the sun began slipping across the windowpane of the sky catching momentum as it rounded the level top. The growls of Kevin’s gut were disturbing his attempt at reconciliating sleep. He leaned forward, feeling upright, and stretched his arms back beyond his reach. He yawned. He yawned again. Feeling an urge to simply rest back down along the bench, Kevin slipped over to the side a bit before catching his weight with his left arm and containing himself up at an awkward and irregular angle.
After a few moments of unrest, Kevin slid his body to a stand. His height, as noted before, was all but an exaggeration. Kevin standing made citizens cross the street to avoid his presence, afraid that the bearded man with the coat will hunt them for their remaining dollars and self-esteem. Though unbeknownst to the typical Seattle city-goer, they could outrun the rounded Kevin and earn their freedom from his evil grasp.
Kevin began pacing steadily, placing one front in front of the other in standard grizzly bear fashion. One. Two. One. Another. Kevin heaved and rocked his body up along the sidewalk, being passed presently by more whimsical and speed-conscious Seattlites. A woman and her child in particular brisked along and beside Kevin, the mother giving a quick vertical glance at his face and yanked her daughter along. “Mommy look at him..,” followed by a quick “let’s go come on.”
Kevin tackled eye contact.
After some limitless time, Kevin stopped. It was an unusual place for Kevin to be. He faced forward away from the street and stood with confidence in front of an unsuspecting bakery. Cookies. Chocolates, and Kevin’s personal childhood favorite, the vanilla fudge. Treats and snacks plagued the windows and stands of the bakery. It was the enveloping smell that saturated any desire for food whilst also whiping clean any self-control any easily persuaded individual had. The smell seemed to encompass the shop, the arousing chocolate brownies begged to be purchased and inhaled, as well as the pretentious birthday cakes, coated in that flourescent and witty cream topping. Kevin could read what was written on top. He didn’t.
Kevin stepped inside, the door already open wide.
He just stood, with ease, in the middle of the bakery, masking his senses with the auroma of intense chocolates and fudge being hand-made in the back, just in sight of any customer curious as to its creation.
Oh what a tease. What a silly tease the smell must have been for any Seattle citizen who passed by the open bakery door with mounting bills and not a dollar to spend on extraneous natures of the oh-so classy vanilla fudge. Kevin, with such setting comfort, still stood in the middle of the bakery’s aroma and smiled- a new smile, one unnerving and relaxing despite his size and posture. Kevin grinned even further and seemed to give in.
Kevin was interrupted. “Hey guy, are you going to buy, because you can’t just stand there…” Kevin caught the eye of the baker who spoke but quickly looked away. The baker, knowledgeable of Kevin’s presence in the city, retaliated.
“Look I can give you a sample but you got to leave. Don’t make this harder.” The baker began stepping outside his register and over to the side counter leaning down as if grabbing something from below.
Kevin placed a hand further covering the face of our young baker friend. “No, No. Not necessary.” The baker paused as Kevin took a step forward. Just one. He froze himself to grasp another wistful wave of fudge and brownie, inhaling extensively and letting it drop through a dragon-like exhale. Kevin stood in front of the register and the baker, who looked confused. Kevin, enthralled by his surroundings, was quite unaware of his vast size in comparison to the bakery, who’s measly interior could be encapsulated by a single grizzly-like man.
“You want something? You can pay yeah?” The baker questioned Kevin. Kevin simply ignored the comment and smacked a hand against the counter. “Vanilla fudge.” The baker became startled by Kevin and took a step back. Perhaps nervous the baker replied with pause. “Do you want…uh…two pieces or…” The baker interrupted himself and simply leaned below the counter to grab a nice chunky piece of vanilla fudge. He placed it in a wrap and positioned it at the bottom of a tiny bag. After this tedium, the baker dropped the bag on the counter. Kevin gave it a quick glance and smiled. His thoughts could have been transcribed with ease. He grabbed the bag and clenched it within his fist, nearly wrapping the entire package around his fingers.
“It’s $4.88.” The bakers hands shook and he placed them upon his waist, nerved by asking money from Kevin, such a large and intimidating name.
Kevin reached into his coat pocket, and with large enveloping hands grasped them around a bill, restlessly placing it on the counter and turning his back to his baker friend.
The baker, now slightly more relaxed only became more distressed at the recieval of the bill.
“This is a…sir…you gave me too much!” The baker gave further inspection to the money, confirming his initial suspicions. The baker, stood aghast at a soggy one hundred dollar bill in his hands, as Kevin paced himself outside the bakery walls and around the corner of an old silver Seattle street.
