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Maelstrom

I couldn't take my eyes off of him. The Ted Burton Suit. The round glasses. Short neat beard. Cool focused demeanour. Back arched, head leaning to one side. His hand swished feverishly at something on his table. The only thing that interrupted my intense gaze was a draft of cold Manhattan air that rushed into the shop when the door opened. A group of tourists had finished exploring Hudson Yards and were ready to refuel. A vibration from my pocket sent shockwaves of anxiety through me. I pushed my thoughts away. Cold sweat held onto to my forehead. A reminder. I resumed my post at the glass wash. The man checked his watch, a simple timepiece with a brown strap and gold face. He cradled his coffee cup for a moment. It seemed like he was in a rush and also had all the time in the world. I hated him in that moment.