For Ward

It was past midnight and the streets of the small town lay abandoned and dark. Hunted by a cold east wind one single plastic bag danced anxiously in front of a warehouse two figures were approaching. One of them was a balding, stubby man, the other a young girl, hands deeply burrowed in the pockets of a hoody. For no apparent reason the man was wearing an expensive tuxedo which surely would have caught the attention of the townsfolk if it had been daylight. The unlikely couple stopped in front of the warehouse.

"That’s it," said the girl.
"That’s it?" the man made sure in a tone of sceptic contempt.
"That’s it."
"Where is the entrance?"
"On the other side," answered the girl and without taking her hands out of the pockets squeezed herself smoothly through the bars of the high fence.
"Ohh…," she commented looking at the belly of the man on the other side of the fence.
Aggrieved he stared back, "Is there a door?"
"No idea. Didn’t check."

The man walked along the fence until he found a door. He opened the briefcase he was carrying with him and took out a paper bag. Out of the paper bag he took a foulard which he spread before the door. On it he put the briefcase he had previously clamped under his arm. Then he lowered himself onto one knee on top of the foulard so his eyes met the lock. He took something out of the briefcase and put it into the lock which instantly sprang open. He then raised himself, took the suitcase and the foulard and entered with dignity.

For Ward

While the girl was watching him disparagingly, he repeated the same procedure at the door which led to the inside of the warehouse and the one that lead to an office - their actual objective. She was thinking about making a sarcastic remark concerning the approaching dawn but remained quiet because she knew it wouldn’t elicit any reaction and most certainly no hurry on his side.

The office was messy and looked more like a lumber room. Disgusted the man swiped a bunch of folders off the table to make space for his briefcase. The girl took off her hoodie. The man took something resembling a corset out of the briefcase and handed it to the girl who put it around her thin camisole. She climbed on the table and attached a hook hanging from the corset to a rack on the ceiling. Next she took an indifferent step to the side that made her hang in the air. She went through the first five positions of ballet. With a look of disapproval the man handed her an aerosol. Then he pushed a button on a small metal box that projected writing on the stained ceiling. The words "For Ward’s Future" shone in blood-red letters. The girl tightened her grip around the spray can, brought her body into a horizontal position and started writing.