Where Snapdragons Lie

Track and Trap

City creek mall was crowded as usual. There is always a shit ton of missionaries coming in from Temple Square. Not to mention the flow of Mormon summer camp counselors and their kids on the plaza. Thank god Delilah gave me her sunglasses before I went out. Otherwise I'd be bombarded like the other cured.  Just last weekend I came here, and made the mistake of removing my glasses for a split second. An annoying, but (i'm sure) good intending, Missionary imminently came up to me. 

He told me very plainly, "The spirit is thinking about you. He really wants you to join him." He handed me some fliers and tried to get me to go to a scripture study. I forced myself to smile and walked away. Needless to say it was creepy as fuck, and I'm glad it doesn't happen every time I come here. This time around, they were more focused on a group of tourists. Thank whatever god exists. Be it Mormon or not.  

I spent a while walking and eventually made two full rounds of the entire mall. Finding Mark won't be overly hard. But keeping track of him may be difficult. City creek mall was just like any other mall. The one exception is that there was no Victoria's Secret. For obvious reasons, I need not explain. But like the rest of Latter Day City, its organized like a grid. Everything is close together, and logically placed. I know every elevator, escalator, and bathroom like the back of my hand. Every possible path, both known and unknown, are in my memory. I once managed to trap a shoplifter on the promenade between Neiman Marcus and Macy's after she tried using the emergency exit. She never saw it coming. I even got a mall gift card as a thank you. That chick put up a good chase but....

My watch buzzed, snapping me out of my flashback, 12:45. Its time for lunch. The food court was crowded but not as bad as it was an hour ago. People were milling about on their phones, waiting in line, chasing after their screaming children in the playroom, or frantically trying to find a seat. Its like being a bee inside a hive. Everyone is all over the place, and yet nobody bumps into each other. Synchronized chaos.  I took to the second level of the food court to get a better view. The vantage point from railing outside of Mr. Mac was perfect. I could see the entire first level of the food court. I put one headphone in my ear and waited. 

People watching is an incredible art. To be able to pick and choose who to watch and when to switch. I have to be active. I have to make the executive decisions on when to change my point of focus. I can't just channel away the static. I have to filter out all the noise myself. There can be no distractions from the inside, or else I would fail. No remote, no problem. I have to listen for the bits and pieces I'm looking for. I can make out a corporate junkie on his phone, but he's not my corporate junkie. The red iguana was abandoned of customers. Sakura Japan was getting a lecture from a white teenager about "real sushi". Then came an interesting phrase from the floor directly below me. 

"Red ties are like my fashion signature," someone said. I look down, and there he is. Mark in the same red tie as the photograph. There is not a moment to loose. He's in the far end of the McDonald's line. I cover my hands in UV ink, and start to gather some silk from the channels in my fingertips. The start of the string, I rolled up slightly, just to make maneuvering a little easier. As he grew closer I made the silk longer by rubbing my hands together. I make it look like the causal movement people make when their preoccupied. I'm trying not to draw any attention. When he was directly beneath me, the tip caught the back of his neck that exposed from his white button up shirt. I carefully lay the silk into a squiggly swirly pattern. It was very reminiscent of my early toddler scribbles. But design doesn't matter, what matters is that I get enough so that Delilah can see it. He was paying close attention to the conversation he was in. My threads are near invisible. Like the webbing you feel on your face after walking under a tree in the spring. You don't see them, you feel them. Mark was to preoccupied to notice.