Saccade

The man watched the woman’s hand fall into her purse as she caught sight of the “ATTENTION: PICKPOCKETS” sign. She pulled out a tube of lip balm and coated her mouth with the waxy end, satisfied to find everything in place. The man jabbed the crosswalk button a good few more times, then quickly hid his hands from the empty winter wind in his coat pockets. 

“Most push-to-walk buttons don’t do a thing,” the woman said between breaths. Apparently she’d been chuckling at his frustrated attempts.

The man reflected her smile, scratched lightly at his temple. “Guess not. Damn.” He shifted his sleeve to check his watch. They were both blinded temporarily by sunlight that spun off the arc of the glass.

“I’m also late for work,” the woman said, offering a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah? But I’m not about to get stopped for jaywalking.”

A moment passed. “I’ve seen you before on this route, right? You’re familiar.”

“Probably not. I don’t often go this route.”

“Oh,” she said, “I’m sorry.” He watched her rummage some in her purse. “Would you like some lotion for your hands?”

“No, thank you.”

“Are you sure? Everyone needs some at a time like this.”

“No, no, that’s alright. I wouldn’t want to take anything of yours.” He jammed the button twice more. Thrice.

“Well, okay.” Then she pointed up at the sign. He did not follow her finger. “You have to watch out for pickpockets, by the way. That’s a nice watch, and it’d be a shame if some thief stole it. Especially if it were a gift.”

“The pickpockets here aren’t that bold,” he said, shivering. “Most don’t go beyond what the name implies. A bump within a crowd, or, you know, a false argument to confuse the victim. Anything to distract their target.”

The woman pulled out her hand mirror and swabbed stray balm with a finger. “From my experience, I think it’s more about leading the mind.”

“Experience of…?”

“Getting robbed, of course.” She placed the mirror and balm in her coat pocket. When she did, something within it glinted for an instant in the sunshine. “It happened about a month ago, at this crosswalk. You know, pickpockets are more likely to gather at warning signs because people check for their valuables, telling thieves exactly where they are without even being aware of it. My thief was a very kind and professional man, and I enjoyed our crosswalk talk, but by the time I’d crossed the road, he’d stolen $100 from me.”

The man smiled sadly. “Sorry for your loss. But I’m glad you enjoyed the conversation.”

“It was the most human interaction I’d had in a long time, so yes, I did enjoy it. It’s like our lives are connected because of it. I guess you could say I gave him a generous tip for his kindness.” She made herself laugh. He watched her.

The red hand had become the outline of a man moving forward, and they walked side by side, talking to each other. When they’d reached the sidewalk, the woman tripped against the cement edge, stumbling into the man. He caught her, and she smiled up at him.

“Well, I shouldn’t make you later than you are,” she said.

“Same to you,” the man said. Before the woman turned to leave, he asked, “Will you be walking this way again?”

“Every day.”

She turned and waved. He followed the arc her hand made, until the final one into her coat pocket. He raised his hand shortly and went his way.

When she was well enough out of sight, the man decided to examine the glinting thing from her pocket. He wondered if she’d wanted him to have it. As he rummaged for it in his pocket, he wondered if she knew he’d used her money to buy the watch, and wondered if she knew him the moment he’d pushed the crosswalk button.

It was a travel-sized bottle of lotion, with a piece of aluminum foil wrapped around the top. He stared at it blankly, peeling the foil off, then felt something rise from his heart, welling like a spring, and found himself laughing.

And as he opened the bottle, he realized what of his she had in her pocket.