The Woman in the Purple Coat
By Contributing Author/Artist Carl Franz
Image by Carl Franz
By Contributing Author/Artist Carl Franz
Image by Carl Franz
I found a quiet place by the window in the café and settled down there with my coffee.
Outside a silent movie of last minute festive fevered shoppers performed at over-speed. It was getting late and the rain was about to come down again. The bobbling heads surged around each other preparing to make the final push for home. But not the woman in the purple coat. She was passing by my window just as a shopping bag slammed her hip. The perpetrator sped away without apology. Together we watched her hasty escape, accompanied by two heavily burdened bags swooping along either side of her. They skimmed their swollen underbellies low over the abrasive flagstones while between them, clackety black shoes kicked alternately forward. Repeating the quick daring stabs until finally merging with the dense forest of rocking legs. The woman in the purple coat should have kept moving too. Keeping up with the homogeneous mass was far safer than dawdling about out there. But to confound matters further she slowed and came to a complete stop. The man just behind, wearing an unseasonally lightweight suit, likewise came to a halt. Making no effort to slip past her. The woman in the purple coat and I continued observing the people together. I from my comfortable window seat in the café, and she from out there in the madness. Not that she was the least bit concerned. A meditative expression smoothed her face. Creating a calm reflection of the solstice moon I knew was floating somewhere overhead. Two peaceful faces, lost from sight in the crowd. One shining above and one shining below the blinding street lights. Her meditation focused my attention to a single point. Transforming her into a mindful lens, rendering everything else a meaningless hurry-smudged background. My table inexplicably shuddered; coffee slopped over the rim of my cup. “Sorry”, muttered a man as he squeezed by, avoiding eye contact. I mopped up with the napkin. When I checked the window again she was still there. Irritated shoppers were stomping and swerving around her. A drop of rain trickled down the centre of the window. A river of magnified detail followed it, exploring the still figure outside with the delicate stroke of a baby’s curious finger. The window parted into two, either side of the watery line. People hurried from one partition to the other. From the past into the future. Ignoring the precious finger’s breadth moment in the centre. Leaving it behind like a forgotten shopping list. An unwary girl, taken by surprise mid-text, nimbly side-stepped the frozen woman in the purple coat. The spiky claws of an umbrella raked the air close by her cheek. Her luck couldn't hold out much longer. For some inexplicable reason the entire crowd of somnambulant shoppers were all being drawn to that very spot. In a paradoxical twist of awareness she was standing perfectly still with her eyes wide open. While everyone else was bearing down on her from all directions, eyes firmly closed. This was going to be messy. I cringed on her behalf but took some solace in seeing that the man was still waiting behind her. I thought perhaps he might at least shield her a little. But he did more than that. He did something remarkable. Without a word he slowly stretched his arms out to either side, palms facing out. No one appeared to be at all surprised about this odd behaviour. But they must have noticed it. As if on his signal the entire population of the precinct altered course. It wasn't much of a shift. Just a subtle step to one side or the other on the part of each person. A brand new weave of invisible paths was created. Etching itself at a single stroke into the paving slabs to accommodate the calm island around the woman in the purple coat. She herself seemed utterly oblivious to any of the drama unfolding around her. Having centred herself, she quietly continued on her way. If she had at that moment turned, she might have seen (as I did) how her mysterious guardian simply faded away into the damp December air. |
About the Author:
Author and artist Carl Franz lives in Yorkshire, UK.
He regularly contributes to his local magazine 'Howden Matters' and also features in various websites and magazines.
He regularly contributes to his local magazine 'Howden Matters' and also features in various websites and magazines.