It
was his face, so startling in its melancholic cast: a pronounced bony brow
ridge over deep, shadowed eyes and high cheekbones sweeping downward to a lantern
jaw. His lips were wide and thin, now set in grim concentration.
He
hovered over the avocadoes, his large-knuckled hands sorting through the bin
with as he made his carful selections.
Frankenstein’s going to make Guacamole? I
mused.
That he was elderly was evident
in the deep crevices of his face, and his thin, lanky build. However, when he
straightened to his full height I gasped at how tall he actually was…
Oops…did he hear me?
I made busy checking out the cauliflower.
He
was all of six foot plus tall…the impression of great height added to by the
fact he wore a white Stetson hat, western boots…and, I noted, a canvas Duster
coat.
I
smiled to myself, Of course, if you’re
Frankenstein what do you dress up as
for Halloween—why a human being of course, perhaps a cowboy?
Later,
I saw him again, just ahead of me at the Express cashier. A charming little
lady was with him, his wife apparently. When the cashier, who seemed to know
them both, said something. He laughed deeply and the crevices of his face
wreathed a large-toothed smile
His
wife laid three bags of Halloween treats down for the cashier to tally. “We get
so many children come by,” she said, “and we always dress up for them.”
“What’re
you going to be this year?” asked the cashier.
The
little lady laughed, “Frankenstein and his bride!”
