Yellow Tie

       Taking an earlier train to a near city in order to catch a bus home from there, thus saving two hours from an already long day, to see the family. 

      It is a short rail trip, so I sit in the cafe car, sipping water.
     In walks a tall fit bald man in a dark suit, blue shirt and a bright yellow tie.   He ushers his companion into the middle booth (yellow tie facing me and a grey haired gentleman, facing away, in a tweed coat that covers his slightly slouched shoulders).  

     Yellow tie is energetic, his eyes seem to pulsate and bulge as he speaks.  His diction smoothly punctuates all the background noise in such an articulate fashion of rapidly captivating fluency, that I am immediately intrigued.   

     The content of his delivery, however, immediately reveals a practiced and orchestrated approach, that feigns all interest.  

     He has a pad before him and is jotting down notes mid sentence, as the elder man positions his coat and subconsciously offers up information.  

    The questions are however, personal and of finances and policies.    
We are in the small confines of a cafe car and the elder gentleman realizes a bit too late, that he has already said too much.   

     He is visibly uncomfortable and looks to his left and right but the train is rattling down the tracks and folks seems distracted, so yellow tie pushes on:

‘How much did you say your wife’s trust was last valued at ?… We at Pinnacle my fine sir, as I’ve already mentioned, certainly think our Dolphin strategy will beat the any Index this quarter, the next and beyond.   You mentioned a life policy, what exactly is that worth?. . .yes the whole life policy.’ 

     With each uninterrupted second and reluctant reply, yellow tie gains in speed and inflection.  

     Across from me on the other side of the aisle, a middle age woman has caught my eye and is equally aghast as I, to what we are hearing and she silently pleads to me to intervene.  

             I wait. . . .

    The elder man has, in my momentary distraction, sat back more straight (as if pushed by sturdy feet beneath the table) and his neck angle is now aligned with his suddenly thrust back shoulders.  

     He stands, interrupting yellow tie and excuses himself toward the lavatory.  

      It is silent now in the cafe car as the great locomotive accelerates Westward towards a fading light that November has already surrendered, plowing through discarded dry leaves left by the passing deciduous.    

     Yellow tie eye’s have narrowed, as if in deep calculating thought and diverts my stationary stare left, right and quickly again.  

     In his copious note taking, his phone has apparently died and  without it, he is as naked as the trees outside.  He surely also feels the stare from the woman to his right and I surmise, correctly realizes that we see his overtly awkward approach to solicit an elders savings in such a public setting as utterly repugnant and quite unsavory. 

      He nervously checks his left wrist and there, he finds no timepiece. 

     The elder gentleman now walks back my way, chin up against the momentum of the train, with new found purpose in his step.  

     Our eyes meet and there is brief connection.   
     He reaches the cafe table and glances not once towards yellow tie.  He picks up his coat and briefcase and only then turns to address the seated man to his left with the surprised expression:   ‘Young man, I have just spoken with my man, Andrin, in Zurich and your Dolphin can go swim with all the other sharks in whatever Pinnacle pond your wading in! My affairs, furthermore, certainly will not be aired here, like dirty linen in the wind.   I am changing seats.
Good day.’    



                                                                                                Sent from 📞 🚂. . .

© All rights reserved 2018

Author: Breck Masterson

Tales From The Rail is a collection of short stories revealed in observation during a commuters journey across this land. Most, if not all stories are based on what actually happened or at times, surmised to what might have happened. . . Granting on some occasions, levity to the mundane. Enjoy!

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