‘Gotta say my man Shakespeare. And the Bible.'
‘Shakespeare and the Bible, eh?'
The repair man was regal, and he was from St. Vincent, and his hands were long and beautiful. He turned around and went with the cart towards the darkness of the building, back to his repair bench. He grinded some debris that was left on the body of the pump. Then he took the casing off, and put the motor on the side of the bench. He tested its power. The whiteboard beyond him had black marker designs to show what tools went where when they were absent. There were industrial strength scissors, wire cutters, and many types of screwdrivers. The old window panes were thick with years of dirt, and dim light barely touched down where hundreds of bottles housed oil that once contained soda pop. The man started in on the pump, and looked at the seal, the impeller, and the o rings. His hands were always doing something, and he was a hand in a world of heads and hands, though nobody was completely one or the other.
Everyone knew the heads ruled the world.
Outside the sun blinked out and the clouds moved in. Maybe it was going to be pathetic fallacy, thought the painter, like in Shakespeare.
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previously at: Lunatics Folly
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At first poignant, then very funny. Fave*
Captures so many things well.