Character Sketch #13Posted: May 23, 2016
He searches the stores as he walks by, head swinging left, swinging right, in time with his footsteps, his eyes roaming, seeking his prey like a caged predator at the zoo. Good luck finding whomever you’ve lost, sir.
Her flower headband speaks of a time lived by people thrice her age. The weight of the taxicab yellow Forever 21 bag speaks of a credit card belonging to someone twice her age. The jelly sandals on her feet speak of children half her age.
She slides along with her tennis ball-footed walker, giving the stinkeye to a scantily clad teenaged girl passing by. Judge not, lest ye be judged, old woman. What short shorts might you have worn in your salad days, I might ask.
He looks fierce and grumpy; a drill sergeant at the mall, perhaps seeking a gift for his buddy’s bachelor party. But his steel gray Mohawk belies that fierceness and lets his playfulness shine through.
He looks lost: walking slowly, eyes darting around. He constantly refers back to a slip of paper in his right hand. A list of gifts, a list of stores, a list of sizes–he doesn’t share the secrets of his list.