Rutherford Kensington Returns
After the bandage was removed, after he was discharged from the hospital, well after the chair was gently lifted from its reclining state, and the woozy feeling of blood re-circulated around his body Rutherford Kensington returned to the Leisure Centre. It was half-four in the morning when he arrived, after the sun had left this part of the sky, after a bus ride that was thwarted by a lack of payment which led to a cash machine and a long walk to return to the station to catch an even later bus. Rutherford held the twin doors that lead to the front desk which stands between him and the locker room that leads to the pool, and pulled to no avail. Having nothing else on his mind Rutherford sat down on the steps to wait.
After the sun came up over the hillside, after a garbage truck stopped its way up the street, after Rutherford gathered a small yellow flower from betwixt two concrete slabs of pathway and returned to his perch, another bus hissed its doors open and out walked a woman whose head tilted at the site of this sitting man on those steps.
“It’s you,” said she, “you’re okay.” Rutherford replied, “‘tis me, I am okay.” The woman sat beside Rutherford, the two of them looked out at the street slowly crawling to life.
“Are you as hungry as I am?” he asked.
“I usually have a gnash after a swim,” she replied.
“Very well,” he said. “After you’ve swam, and after you’ve dried, and after you place the clothes you’re now wearing back onto your body, and after we meet again and walk to the diner up the way, you and I will have some dinner.”
“It will be breakfast time then, love,” she said.
“Oh, I see,” said Rutherford, looking out after everything. “I feel like there’s something I was meant to say.”
“After dinner perhaps,” said the woman.