"Ivo" by Cocteau Twins, from Treasure

His job is routine. Every day, he assumes the same spot on the park bench and unfurls the daily issue of New York Times. He's not a reader - never has been, and he quietly longs for some other fun, mindless way to pass the time.

With disinterest, he watches the windows of the hospital, waiting for something new to transpire, knowing resignedly that nothing will. The people he's watching are stuck in the same holding pattern day after day, their lives seemingly more routine than his own.

In the morning, an old woman comes into the room and sits beside the younger one. She rarely speaks and never smiles. She leaves always at the same time, avoiding the moment when the door opens again and a tall man comes inside, his demeanor always troubled, his shoulders hunched. He often frowns and stares at the wall. Sometimes, he reaches for a hand of the young woman and kisses her fingers with tenderness and care. He never leaves calmly - rather runs away and slams the door behind him in haste.

A small redheaded woman comes to visit on random days, at odd times, and she always brings a book to read aloud. He can't tell if her audience is responsive, but she reads with enthusiasm and obvious emotion, always smiling at the patient when she finishes a chapter for the day. He sighs and puts away the newspaper. It only serves to attract attention. He is very good at what he does: blending into the surroundings, becoming one with the street. He once followed a man for a week, remaining in plain view all the time, and was never noticed. Proudly, he tells his employers that he just has 'one of those faces.'

These people are too absorbed in their own pain to pay attention to the outside world, and that always helps him.

He watches as the redheaded woman enters the room. She doesn't have a book under her arm this time. She carries a bouquet of flowers - some small bluish things the name of which he doesn't know - and places them in the hands of a thin woman sitting by the window. She accepts the gift - and he sees a rare smile blossoming on her face.

After the patient is left alone, she opens the window slightly and observes the street outside. Suddenly, her eyes focus on him, and he is certain that she knows him - knows what he is doing here and why - and forgives him. Paralyzed, he watches as one of the flowers peels away from the bouquet and levitates in the cold air, slowly falling onto the ground close to his feet.

Reflexively, he reaches for it, but doesn't have a chance to pick it up before someone's elegant black boot smashes it into the melting snow.

He shakes his head, as if in a dream, seeing nothing but torn blue petals. The woman in the window above clutches the remaining flowers close to her chest, obviously afraid to let another one go.

He stands up and walks slowly away, ten minutes before his eight-hour day is completed. As he meets with his employer and accepts the daily offering of folded green bills, he nervously resigns, saying that he got another lucrative job and wouldn't be able to help here anymore.

The green-eyed young man doesn't have a chance to make a better offer before the watcher disappears.

Back to the Fire Eaters index

Look at Soundtrack