Sinister: disturbing sights

[Retro^Sec]

I'd been busy thinking about my trip to the bank this
afternoon, where I had proven my ability to get what I
want, although to be honest, I said very little to do
that. I'd gone into the bank, which was a miles walk
from the office. I'd wanted a transfer of money to
another bank account, and when the girl said it would
cost me, I said "why?". She explained, so I asked her
to close my account. That was all it took for the
manager to take me into a little room and do the
transfer for free, provided I kept my account open.
This was a new experience. I suppose I can be, on
occasion, rather frosty, but generally I tend to
accept the rules as they lie. I just didn't want to
walk another mile down the road, with a cheque in my
pocket, then have to wait for the cheque to clear. In
the middle of this, the rther sweet salesman from the
car dealership called me, and I must have still been
in Ice Maiden mode, because he sounded a bit hesitant
when I answered. I was sitting on the train, feeling a
bit guilty for being a moody cow, especially to the
nice salesman, and perhaps slightly to the
over-helpful manager of the bank. I didn't mean to be,
it just came out that way. 

The train trundled away from the platform at
Sighthill, in Edinburgh. As it passed by some council
flats, I took a look in through the windows of the
owners, casually. A broad shouldered, tatooed shaved
headed man, standing topless in his living room,
wearing tracksuit bottoms and holding something that
looked like a squigey for a window. 

>From another, a child. Probably about 4 or 5 years
old, with long blonde hair, wearing a white tshirt and
white shorts and socks and trainers. She was standing
by the window, and was climbing out. The window itself
was large from the floor upwards, with about a foot at
the bottom of fixed glass. I watched her as she
climbed out, leaning her feet and legs to the left,
and slowly, but surely, making her way out the window.
By the time she had passed from sight, she was
dangling from the first floor window, by her
fingertips. Below her was a little white picket fence,
marking out a patch of flowerbed that someone had
designated. 

It changed my thoughts completely. My thoughts on the
train. I've not been able to get those thoughts of
that little girl out of my head. That little girl in
her white t shirt and shorts. I wonder what happened.
I've consoled myself with the thought that I couldn't
do anything from a moving train, nor could I call
anyone, as I don't even know what street that council
flat is on. But I wonder tonight, what happened. Did
her parent catch her in time? Did she fall? At worst,
did she perhaps break a leg or an arm, that will make
her feel sorry for herself and hopefully take away her
fearlessness? My imagination is running away with me
about that white picket fence. Not a very high one,
just a cheap one from any DIY store. Imagining crimson
red on the white fence, and her white clothes. I
shudder to think. 

You read these stories in the papers, but to see it
potentially unfold before your eyes, when there is
nothing you can do, and nothing you could have done to
prevent it. And to see her, dangling, literally, by
her hands, by the edge of her fingers. She was going
to jump. I don't think she realised how far it was to
the ground below.

Yours,

retrosec

=====
<a href="http://retrosec.blogspot.com/">http://retrosec.blogspot.com/</a> thoughts

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