A Matter of Perspective – Fiction

A Matter of Perspective

by Scott Hefflon
illustration by James Corwin

The dog days of summer are here again. Out the window it looks like a gorgeous day. Bright sun, clear skies, an occasional picture-perfect cotton-ball cloud floating by, perhaps a gentle breeze carrying the sweet fragrance of flowers in full bloom…

But let’s not over-romanticize and overlook the fact that it’s hot. I mean damn hot. Stifling, humid, relentless sunlight that makes you squint until your head aches, dripping sweat, reeking B.O., praying for a breath of fresh air but getting only stale circulations of exhaust and other people’s bodily stench, trapped in a sweltering, sticky, “Ew! Don’t touch me!” day… Yup, glad I’m inside. The AC is pumping out nice, cool, odor-free air. Air so sterile it seems to smell funny. At least it makes the room comfy. I’m just lying here, lounging on the carpet, watching the clouds flow by the window. Relaxing. Content. Enjoying life a little. OK, so I’m being lazy.

My best friend comes into the room and asks if I want to go for a walk. He’s been in his office/study all morning making calls, returning mail, balancing his checkbook and other tasks typical of the Saturday Routine. I feel bad for him. He’s stressing out. He gives me the tired excuse of getting me some air and a little exercise. I know he just wants to get out of the house. I could tell him the air we’ll be getting will be less than refreshing and that a quick jaunt to the corner store for cigarettes and soda is hardly a rigorous workout, but I don’t think he’d understand.

For a spontaneous and rather trivial outing he certainly does a lot of preparation: meticulously primping his hair, checking pockets for keys, wallet, lighter, spare change (to play with while standing in the inevitable line at the counter but forget about when making the actual purchase), re-touching the hair in case one moved, turning on the answering machine, turning down the AC (or turning up the thermostat, depending on how you look at it), and turning off the lights. I’m standing by the door, watching him do laps like decapitated poultry and I try to smile; we’ll be back in ten minutes. But if this is what it takes to make him happy, so be it. Everything in order? Everything in place? Everything set? Good. Let’s go.

Walking down the street. It’s like a fashion parade and me under-dressed. It seems everyone got all gussied up for the occasion of… walking down the street. Suddenly my friend, formerly the claustrophobic anxiety victim and unconscious collector of neurotic idiosyncrasies is now the Master of space, time, and dimension. Oh, what the hell, it’s a nice day. The “fresh” city air is making me feel a little giddy and headstrong, too. I want to break away and run, Run! down the sidewalk. No particular destination, no schedules, no pre-fabricated expectancies. Just… The thrill! The freedom! Motion for the sake of itself! A self-justified, self-sufficient celebration of life and motion in their unbridled essence! Not rushing blindly to be somewhere else, but really being wherever you are, even in transit! But then I think better of it and continue trotting along. I’d probably get hit by traffic, anyway.

Look at it all! Look at EVERYTHING! Come on, you’re the one that wanted to go for a walk. Wow! Look down this stairwell! Hey! Check out these flowers, this railing! Man, you’ve got your head up so high and stuck straight ahead that you’re missing all this STUFF! You nod politely and equally superior to all the familiar figureheads, but you’re so detached and cool you can’t feel it because you won’t let it touch you. Fine, go in the store. Ignore me like you do everything else. I want to hang out here and people-watch. You guys are so funny to watch going through your motions. So directed, so caught up in your self-important selves that you’re totally oblivious to your surroundings and What’s Going On. You people are truly amusing. Thank God I’m a dog.

Mr. Hefflon is not a dog. He thinks he’s the Editor/Publisher, but that’s a matter of opinion.