On the Square

1

St. Arete Square is flushed with social life. It is an open square surrounded by beige brick apartments and deceptively colorful shops facing inward and outward, with one open arch inviting controlled entry. Store owners and tenants shuffle about with muted interest, occasionally and temporarily lighting up at local surprises. Stabilized by local order. The very unmuted interests in the children temporarily uplifting theirs.

Some people stare, others look away out of respect. Theodore spent most of his years looking away out of nervousness. He felt uncomfortable when getting stared at, often wondering what a different mind would be so numb to manners and stare all the time. Theodore felt shorter than he really was, surrounded by crushing heights that made him want to slip out of most moments. This limited his willingness to explore and gain anything.

Theodore had a coldness to him. He didn't feel the urge to nurture. His own troubles were too great, he couldn't imagine taking care of something else. He pitied the helpless but at the same time didn't feel the urge to help. He'd watch others step in with grace and love which deep in his mind he couldn't relate to.

His parents were old and didn't want his help. This was a surprise from their usual authoritative order. His father was especially tyrannical and during his parenthood treated the house like his kingdom. Theodore hadn't lived a minute of his adult life without feeling like a son.

He wore a grey wool cap and a long coat. He felt comfortable and secure all covered up like this.

He was on his way to work at a small bar in St. Arete Square, where he did various work as well as their accounting and budgeting. The bar owner, Teddy, could tell on Theodore's first day that he was a soft lad, so despite his hot headed nature treated Theodore kindly and spoke to him gently.

As Theodore was walking, his head was down and he was thinking about all of the moving legs surrounding him and where they were going. He envied their bounce. Just then he brushed against a woman, rattling her as she altered her course slightly. He lifted and turned his head:

"I'm sorry ma'am."

"Don't worry," she said.

Her name was Josephine. Her hair was grey but she still had her beauty. She was wearing a brown wool coat that wasn't as stiff as Theodore's. Something about Theodore's clumsiness walking into her made her like him; "Poor fellow," she thought warmly.

Josephine was a meticulous person. She was cautious, and thoughtfully crafted her opinions rather than dispensing rash reactions. She was once complimented on her steady pace in dialogue.

Josephine had spent her life working at a hat shop in the square. She liked the central concept of style of the hat store, but often found herself bothered by the customers- mostly people with a decent pocket of money looking to spruce up their glamour. Though Josephine liked fashion and style, she was disturbed by all the talk of allure among the young women. When she was younger the concept of catching men's attention was a subtle goal, and one to be careful with. But now to hear all this blatant talk of seduction and allure unsettled her. "Maybe it's a timeless phenomenon," she thought. But she didn't remember being like that, and she didn't remember her friends being like that either.

When people came in alone they often took an absurd length of time picking a hat and deciding a comfortable size. It was a mania that upset Josephine greatly. She would watch them gaze at the displays and shelves, and with what she thought to be like a deep, hunter-gatherer psychology, they would pick the shiniest object from the shelf with such obsession. Then, unlike a hunter-gatherer, they would stay in the store for up to an hour trying on different hats and rejecting them due to the great number of options that prevented any decision making or satisfaction in final choice.