Saving Grace

22

Grace was looking for an alarm system.

She knew of a place in the heart of the city who were known for their "emphasis on safety", which in actuality was an expression of severe paranoia regarding unlikely home invasions and improbable burglaries. There were shelves upon shelves of alarm systems, pepper sprays, canned goods and other items of insanity for everyone. However over-the-top some it was, though, it was a good place to buy an alarm, and Grace quickly spotted the perfect one – perfect, if not for the man who recommended it.

Grace leaned in to examine the system as it sat on the shelf. The lightning was bad and the shop was loud – kids running amok in the next isle as their parents shushed them and begged them to stop being so embarrassing. She leaned in close enough to smell the fresh chemicals on the glossy box, struggling to read the tiny writing.

"That's a good one," a voice said.

Grace turned to face the man speaking to her.

He wasn't terribly tall and his body was soft around the middle, but something about the way he stood gave the distinct impression that his was a body capable of great leverage, of great strength and stamina. Yet, there was a charm about him, a charisma. She offered him a smile.

"My wife and I bought one of those last summer after we were robbed by some neighbourhood kids. We'd still have it if my nephew hadn't of put a fork through it."

Grace chuckled, shifted her weight.

"I'm guessing that's why you're here, then."

"You'd guess right," he said, grabbing one off the shelf. "Albert."

"Grace," she said, shaking his hand.

They stood there for several minutes, chatting about the system and Albert's nephews and then the weather and the bets for next week's game. By the end, Grace found him absurdly charming – witty and intelligent, even. When she recounted this experience to me she did so with great respect and excitement, as if she'd met some celebrity and they were just as charming as their public relations made them out to be. However, when their conversation came to a natural end, she did note one specific detail – a crooked leg. Albert had waddled away on a crooked leg. It wasn't an obvious limp, and Grace had to stare long and hard at him to notice, but it was there. We should've known then – the moment he said hello – but of course we didn't, and now I am the one who must suffer for it.

© A.G. Travers 2018