There were several more stops before the tram arrived at mine. I would have missed it if it were not for the operator. Throughout the rest of the ride, I replayed the events over and over. Even after I got off, my mind continued its trance-like loop. How lucky I was to be alive. What was all that about? Looking around, no one was in a panic. There were no soldiers marching through the streets. The city was not under attack.
Midway down one of the larger streets, an automotive vehicle passed by me. To my surprise, it slowed down a few metres away and the head of a woman popped out of the carriage door, staring in my direction. I thought I recognised the face, and apparently, she recognised mine. Eyes widening, a smile grew across her face.
“Elisa! Is that you?!”
I stopped walking. The face was definitely familiar. So was the voice. Yet, I couldn’t come up with a name.
“It is you!” she pipped. “It’s me, Sophia!”
Sophia. That name was familiar. I carefully studied her face some more before I recalled enough to address her. “From elementary…”
“What’s that?!” she yelled over the engine clamour. “Speak up!”
I straightened, letting my voice climb a bit. “From elementary school, right?”
“Yes, yes!” she laughed. “Schoolyard lassies!”
Suddenly, she became very familiar. “I do remember you!”
“Of course you do!” The woman beamed, her eyes closed, leaning out the carriage with her arms crossed, elbows propped on the door ledge. “Everyone remembers me!”
“I’m surprised you recognised me!”
Sophia opened her eyes wide, bringing a hand to her face to form a circle around one of her eyes, as if peeping through a peephole. “It’s that silly straw hat of yours! You made yourself super easy!”
My hat. It was an old hat, I suppose. I did not recall having it in elementary, though. “It’s been a while! What brings you back?!”
Stretching both her arms into the air, she hung out from the carriage window in a precarious manner. “I’ve moved back!”
“Really?!” I exclaimed. “That’s brilliant!”
“Get on over!” she dropped her hands to gesture me over with a wave. “It’s a bother yelling over this machine! Come say hello to George! George?!” Then she ducked her head back under the carriage roof. I walked on over to the door, looking up through the opening to see a man, dressed with just a shirt and vest, topping off with a bowler. He was not someone I recognised. Sophia introduced us to each other, presenting her hands at each of us respectively. “George, schoolyard lass.”
He smiled under his mustache. “Pleasure.”
I let out a silent laugh. “Must you call me that?”
“We called ourselves that, did we not?”
“Back then,” I reminded. “We’re grown up now.”
She stared at my face in silence. Slowly, her smile softened, leaving her face, and along with it, mine as well. Did I upset her?
“You look… almost… sad.”
“… Do I?”
“Don’t you think, dear?” Sophia turned to her companion. The man shrugged.
“You know her better than me.” He had a high pitch tone to his voice.
“I think you do,” she turned back to me, gazing deep into my eyes with a determined glare, as if she was figuring out a puzzle. Reflexively, I avoided her gaze.
“Just… a bit shaken.”
“Shaken? Was there an earthquake?”
“… No. My tram ride here. It was almost involved in a crash today.”
Her eyes widened. “No kidding! Wait…” Her head spun back to her companion. “That wasn’t us, was it?”
“Hm? A tram? No. It was another car.”
“Oh, right.” She returned to me. “Well… sorry to hear. Get well soon, right?”
I nodded. “Just need some time… I’ll be fine, thanks.”
Sophia smiled again. “Hey, where are you heading off to? Who are those flowers for?”
“They’re for my shop.” Looking down, I slightly propped the basket up my forearm.
“Really?!” She suddenly leaned forward, almost hitting her head on the roof, gripping the carriage door with both hands. Her voice shrilled with excitement. “You run a shop? With who?”
“Just myself.”
Now her eyes really widened. “Yourself? Just you? Really?!”
I hesitated. Her exuberant questioning threw me off as to whether she was excited for or challenging me. I nodded without a word.
“That’s mental!” Her excitement grew. “That’s so brave! I do adore you! I never knew you had the knack for business in you!”
I smiled, feeling my face growing warm. “It wasn’t my choice, but thank you.”
“Though, thinking back, maybe I should have expected that.” She crossed her arms and rested on them, her shoulders haunching. “Do you remember Mary?”
“Which one?” I knew many.
“Mary Baker.”
“… No, I don’t, unfortunately.”
“Would you believe she married a baker?” She was smiling so much at the happy coincidence.
“Really? With whom?”
“Dear, we’re burning fuel.” Her companion tapped her shoulder, then gave it a light shake. “We need to go.”
“Oh…” Sophia straightened, briefly glancing at George. “Right. Uh… Well, then… Where is your shop? I pay a visit whenever I can!”
“Not far from here, on 398 Lawrence Street. A left turn, up the hill, and then take a right once you reach the next street.”
“All right. Three nine eight Lawrence. Three nine eight…” she committed to memory. “Well, I’ll chat with you soon!” The vehicle began to roar again, crawling forward. “Take care!”
“Likewise! Farewell!”
With a puff of steam, the vehicle rolled away. Sophia ducked her head back into the carriage, and they disappeared around the bend. I stayed put for a few moments before I began walking again. The day couldn’t possibly get any hectic. A chanced reunion with a childhood friend and a near trainwreck. I had my share of excitement for one day, and I hadn’t even arrived at the shop. Once I arrived, I unlocked the door, propped it open, and got to work.
As it was a Monday, business started out slow. I was afforded some time to myself to continue reflecting before the first customer of the day arrived for a quick gander. Fortunately for me, the afternoon flew on by without much of a fuss. Visitors were amicable. Ate a late lunch as usual. Despite the fact that a flying machine crashed into the river this morning, nothing out of the ordinary happened on the streets. No sirens, no relevant chatter, leaving me to my own imagination. I busied myself around the shop, checking up on the flowers I left over the weekend and rearranging where necessary. The spirit came up in my mind a few times as I arranged the flowers, some of them beautifully ripe thanks to her.
But of course, the day had one more surprise to offer.
In the evening, coming around the time to close up, I was sat at the counter in the store, staring blankly at the shop windows, dyed orange from the setting sun. It had been an hour or two since the last customer stopped by, and we had a lovely chat about different kinds of flowers we’ve encountered, particularly in her experiences travelling.
Before I could think of closing up shop, a silhouette passed by the window and stopped near the door, catching my attention. When the visitor did enter the shop a few moments later, I sat up lifting my chin out of my arms and smiling. As I opened my mouth, however, I stopped short of a greeting upon seeing the man’s face. Capped with a bowler, he wore a white shirt and a beige vest under his dark trench coat. He had a broad chin, clean shaven, and impenetrable eyes.
“What a coincidence,” the man articulated softly.
“… Yes. Why, hello.”
Staying by the door, both hands in his coat pockets, he smiled. “I suppose I never introduced myself during our touch-and-go.” He briefly turned his head back outside. “Ms. Elisabeth, was it?” I reasoned he was glancing at the shop sign, albeit in a contrived manner. More like he was pointing with his head.
“Yes… And yours?”
“Buford.” Lifting an arm, he held out a small wallet-sized article and flipped it open in front of me. On it, was a profile with his face. Next to it, the seal of the city’s authority.
“Inspector Charlie Buford.”