32 - Collecting Clippings

This weren't the first time I saw him. Seen him at least twice before. He'd stride up and down the street at high speed. Always acted busy, like he were running late. Went round with this very neat roll of newspapers held together with an elastic band. What looked funny was this long pair of scissors he had stuck through his belt loop. He looked scruffy, though he did dress quite neat. He wore shoes on his feet and his polo shirt, though it were an old one, was always tucked into his trousers. What made the difference was probably this grime he had on him, probably from walking round everywhere all the time.

I saw him miles from here once. Still in the same district, but a good half hour walk away. Never saw him with any transport and I can't imagine him wanting to take the bus. I reckon he just strode everywhere at high speed. Anyway, I was in this shop miles away, about to buy a drink, when he come in wanting to use the photocopier. Seemed like he went in there a lot, since the bloke behind the counter knew him. They exchange a couple of words and the bloke from behind the counter goes over to the photocopier. You could tell he'd done this before. He takes a blank sheet of paper from the drawer, lifts the lid and puts the paper down on the glass and says to the scruffy fella "lay out your clippings then." Then comes this pause. Everything in the room seemed focused on the scruffy fella fussing over his clippings, which he's got in a see-through folder. He seemed a bit more agitated than normal, his head was bobbing around a bit for one thing. In any case, he starts taking his clippings out and arranging them on the blank piece of paper. The bloke from behind the counter says "I'll leave you to it then," and comes over to serve me. I bought my drink and should have left but I stood there and took a sip of my drink watching the bloke with the clippings. He arranges his clippings on the paper very carefully and then lowers the lid on the machine and presses copy. Then he starts examining his copy of the clippings, which is when I left.

Never saw him again until today but nothing had changed. He had the same roll of papers and the scissors as well. Weird thing was how calm he seemed. He bought himself a glass of tea and sat down at one of the little tables, right across from me. I could see him with his papers. And he starts cutting out this one article very careful like when this bloke comes in, his face all red. This bloke strides right up to him and leans into his personal space.

I felt wrong about it from the off, but when the bloke looked over at me I looked away. The scruffy chap is always muttering when he was walking round the streets and if you get to close to him he'll move away. He's a nervous sort of bloke, but he just let his head sink down a bit when this red-faced bloke was leaning over him. You could see the bloke with the red face was furious, but he was holding it back, just whispering. I wish I could say I stood up for what was right, because that weren't right, but I just watched while the scruffy fella quietly rolled his papers up and went off with the red faced bloke holding his arm. His tea was barely touched.