Lost Property

Kat’s body quietly resisted the river breeze as she cycled the gritty path, bitter aftertaste of a morning coffee on her tongue. She noticed a man sitting on the park bench nearby, a dark cloud hovering above its peeling paint. She felt his gaze upon her. Direct. Unwavering. There was something threatening about him. Kat fixed her gaze ahead.

Leonard settled into the bench and surveyed the animated park. His large frame lounged beneath the winter sun, occasionally drinking from a bottle nestled inside his coat pocket. Soft breezes sighed past him and into low-hanging branches. Finches flitted about. Children shrieked and swarmed the playground like bees to a hive. They drew Leonard’s attention. Squinted to focus. One of the little girls was his daughter. Was it? Surely not. She’d be older now. Possibly full grown. Leonard didn’t know. Couldn’t bring himself to care. Such information was lost to him anyhow. He scratched his beard, running his tongue over a broken canine tooth at the front of his mouth. Eyes wandered. Lips met the bottle. Thoughts drained down the back of his throat and cleared his mind.

He caught himself staring at a woman cycling the path toward him. Thin, out-of-season sundress fluttering against her delicate figure. It made him thirsty. Oh, how he loved a sundress. Would have been years since he’d peeled one back with his calloused, concrete fingers. Longer still since he’d tasted the ripe fruit from underneath. His watchful eye made her uncomfortable. He could feel that. Delighted in it, maybe. Wild hair. Thigh exposed. As she rode past, his mind drifted away with her.

Perhaps it was the fact that she was a young woman, alone, or the sudden awareness of the flimsy cotton dress she wore. Perhaps it was his sombre, staring, unshaven face. Wool coat on a warm winter’s day. No matter what, Kat felt consumed. Minutes passed before the feeling left her completely. Fucking prick. It was time for a second cup of coffee.

Back inside the cramped kitchen of his apartment, Leonard removed two bottles of cheap whiskey and a jar of pickled onions from a plastic bag. Around the apartment lay scores of empty bottles, cigarette butts, and forgotten belongings. Stacked books held equal layers of mildew and dust. No joy sprung here; what fragments entered couldn’t survive. Rays of sunlight snuck through filthy windows. Dust particles danced between the damp and cluttered rooms.

From kitchen to lounge, bottle in hand, stagger in step, Leonard kicked away the remnants of his previous binges and settled on the couch. Strips of sunlight warmed his leathered face. He did have a daughter. A daughter who didn’t visit him anymore. Perhaps never did. Couldn’t remember. Didn’t feel the need to try. Blink thought away. Whiskey wash it further down.

The afternoon passed in a routine haze of cigarette smoke and the drone of daytime television. It wasn’t until sundown that the room began to choke him, spitting Leonard back onto the street. It was safer out there, where thoughts couldn’t trap him. Night air was a comfort. The drifting river sang a gentle melody.

Bleak streetlights illuminated the path Kat travelled as she crouched on her bike, legs pumping in a fever. She hated being out at night. Shadows scratched at her heels with long, beckoning fingers. Cracking, crunching, creaking sounds kept her ears pricked. Speeding alongside the river, she rounded a corner and crashed. Limbs and bike collided into a still and towering figure, surrendering her to the open sky. Her body scraped against the bitumen as she met the ground. Burnt bits at the bottom of a pan. Struggling for breath. The figure encroached. Adrenaline shot through Kat’s body as she faced him, knees and elbows burning. Chest tight. But none of that mattered; she wasn’t safe. Panting and desperate, Kat got to her feet and ran.

Leonard swayed, jaw slack and eyes fixated on the young woman who sprinted from him. Whiskey dulled the ache that pulsed behind his legs. The touch of her outstretched hand lingered, static and alive, upon his right shoulder. Overall, he felt quite fine. The force may have knocked him, but the girl had flown. Weightless and graceful, eyes full with panic. Released from the bike in a perfect arabesque before skidding to an abrupt and silent halt.

His mind lagged as his body moved toward her. Hand out. Tongue fumbling over a word of offering. But she had sprung to her feet and taken off. Her bike abandoned on the side of the path, front wheel still spinning. Leonard coughed. Scratched his beard and lifted the bike. A little banged up but probably fixable. He followed the river as the scene replayed in his head, bicycle squeaking alongside him as he wandered home.

Clunking up the aging, wooden staircase to his apartment, Leonard kicked aside the coarse welcome mat to expose a brass key hidden underneath. Unlocked the door. Shuffled through. Bottles knocked over and cupboard bumped. He manoeuvred the bike through his personal wasteland, haphazardly clearing a space to work. Eyes scoured the room to find a rag or something he could use to fix the chain. He’d done this before. Must have been for his daughter. Leonard’s rough hands hovered over books, tools, matches, and misplaced rubber bands. He stored no memories here, kept only possessions.

Eyes locked. Face fell. Hand reached forward. A bell for a bicycle gripped in the palm. Leonard closed his eyes to the sound of her bubbling laughter as it echoed in his mind.

Something cracked inside his chest. Uncomfortable. Hot. The cold steel of the bell filled him with panic. Mouth dry. The room small. Gotta be a drink around here somewhere. On hands and knees, Leonard grasped at bottles nearby before finding one. Half-full with tawny treasure. Half-full with relief. Resting his broad shoulders on the seat of the couch, he suckled from the glass container. Eyes bleary. Mind calm. Thirst quenched. Bell forgotten.

Fierce August winds made way for sharp September sunshine. Warm rays beat down upon cool city streets as if attempting to make up for their brief winter hiatus. Bees returned to their work. Flies schemed and plotted on windowsills and café tables. A thin trail of sweat adorned Kat’s upper lip as she strolled, gently drawn by the scent of roasting coffee.

Tired hinges on a heavy door announced Kat’s arrival to a crowd of murmured conversations and apathetic waitstaff. With her coffee ordered, she turned from the counter and froze—feet planted and mind racing, hands paused in the action of sliding wallet into purse. It wasn’t a mirage. No optical illusion or dreamlike apparition. It was him. Watching her through the window with worn and weary eyes. He acknowledged her with a nod, bent slightly, and lifted her bike like a sacrifice. He set it down, large hand patting the seat once, twice before looking up and attempting a strained smile.

She watched him turn, shrug further into his coat and light a cigarette, sauntering away like a slow and tiny steam engine. Kat pushed against the shop door with both hands and rushed outside where the bike was waiting. It seemed to be in perfect condition. Her mouth mumbled with questions that could not be answered. Running her fingers over the handlebars, she noticed something different. Something new.

Leonard’s feet scraped the cement as he walked away from the girl and the bike he had left her. Sucking on a cigarette, he sighed deeply. Spring’s gentle breeze carried with it the scent of wet grass, fresh blossoms, and the joyful ring of a little steel bell.