An Unmarked Package

Here sat the table. A small card table, folding legs, vinyl surface, slightly worn. It just showed up in the park.

Winter. Trees without leaves. Crisp, grey skies. Bluster.

Two old men sit at the table. Bundled, insulated, scarved, hatted. Bound against the bitter air.

They sit, facing each other. On the table, a collection of minutiae. A small pile of rocks. A bottle of whiskey. An unmarked package, visibly worn, wrapped in brown paper, bound with twine. And a gun.

In the air their breath fingers out, exploring the cold, tentative and spare. One man takes a pack of cigarettes from his heavy coat. He lights up.

The other man takes a mouthful of the whiskey.

The first, the smoker, speaks.

"When we first met, as children, as neighbors, we met, in this very spot. Our mothers lived in the building which once stood behind us. This building is no more."

The other.

"Yes, I remember. I remember my mother was the seamstress for the building. Her projects piled up around our tiny apartment, garments on hangars throughout. I used to wear these clothes whenever she left to go to the store."

The first.

" As you can see I have brought what I promised."

"I do."

"I will assume that our deal still stands?"

"It does."

The first man smokes down his cigarette. The second takes more of the whiskey. They are so methodical, so deliberate and calculated in their motions, a side effect of aging and of great purpose. A crow lands on the table, and begins pecking almost absentmindedly at the twine.


Both men sit in silence, motionless, as if in a trance, watching the bird. Eventually it flies away.

The wind picks up. the weather is turning. Clouds have gathered. A storm is near.

The second man speaks.

"In our shared dreams, under the cover of night, always we are apart, yet always I have sensed you near. As I was, as you were, as I found myself the world over. Marrakesh, Istanbul, Stuttgart, Nice, you were always by my side. I knew it as well as I knew myself. And I must thank you for that."

The first.

"For years I thought you might forget this promise. I began to wonder if you would come back, if you would honor the words of our youth. As the day approached, I grew apprehensive, even doubted coming at all. You know that I have never left this city, and in fact, I have lived and worked in this very area my entire life. Your postcards came less and less often, but always they remained true. 'I remember' they always said, and so I knew. But still, a lifetime being what it is."

The second.

"I am here as you can see."

First.

"It is time."

The sky begins to break, small drops tap the tabletop.

The first man pushes the package towards the second, takes the rocks, places them in his pocket, and then he closes his eyes.

The second man picks up the gun. He points the gun at the first man, and shoots him between the eyes. The first man slumps forward, blood flows down his face.

The second man places the gun in his coat, picks up the package, and walks away. He turns up his collar.

The sky empties.