A Very Still Morning
posted February 4, 2009
Ganin slowly grew bored of pretending to be asleep and delicately rolled over. A second-floor window presented itself abruptly to his nose. It was early but summer, so the pines and static apartments across the street shone in dignified resistance to the shaded street below. Ganin suppressed a shiver while he stared at the frozen, low-contrast shadows of the sidewalk.
A pristine black sedan hurried uphill, reminding Ganin that motion still went on, elsewhere. The sedan executed an efficient U-turn and stopped on the opposite side of the street. Its breath was visible. Immediately, another black sedan followed the first up the hill. The second car was nearly identical to the earlier one but was slightly larger and much more expensive. It too swung swiftly and then lingered behind the first sedan. The second sedan’s door produced a human, who emerged between the cars' twin plumes, which expanded slowly with pride. The human’s transaction at the first sedan’s window lasted fewer than 30 seconds. A small paper bag receded into the second car while the first disappeared downhill. The economy creaked with growth.
Ganin compared the cold stillness outside to the soft, glowing stillness on his side of the strange window.
Imitating the path of the earlier cars, a boy Ganin knew hiked uphill. They had recently developed a physics-class friendship based on a mutual recognition of exquisite taste. The boy slowly reached a point on the sidewalk directly aligned with Ganin’s window. He abruptly turned a neutral expression upward at a 45-degree angle and lethargically unfurled his middle finger.