A chill had descended, and it had started to rain, and the Syrian was about to move on—lately he’d been working tourists in shops on the Rue de la Confédération—when he saw two men carry suitcases out of the bank and put them on the sidewalk. They went back inside and the door opened again and the piggish man came out. He looked red and angry. He put his hands on the bags’ handles and lifted them with an effort that made him turn redder. He put them down again and looked up and down the street. He raised his hand as a taxi approached but the taxi had a passenger and did not stop. Another taxi approached but it was hailed half a block away by another passenger who wanted out of the rain. The piggish man put his hands back on the bags, as if to make sure they were still there, as if he was guarding them. He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped water off his forehead and then lifted the bags again. Struggling with their weight, he moved slowly down the block toward the intersection with the Boulevard Georges-Favon, where there would be more taxis and also buses and a tram. Halfway there, he stopped to rest, and the woman appeared in the doorway of the bank. She didn’t seem to mind the rain. She looked in the direction of the piggish man, who was mopping his forehead again, and she smiled. As she turned to go back inside, she glanced across the street and she saw the Syrian. She looked at him, and he looked at her. She didn’t smile at him, but she pointed. She pointed to the piggish man and to the heavy bags he was carrying.

The woman went back inside. The Syrian crossed the street and fell in behind the piggish man, his eyes on the suitcases. The man was moving slowly, and the Syrian moved slowly behind him. Just then, on the opposite sidewalk, he saw his cat-hating roommate in the white taqiyah lingering near the door of another bank. What was he doing here? Had he followed him here to continue their argument? Now, of all times? Apparently not. He must have seen me, the Syrian thought. I’m right here. But, if his roommate did see him, he paid him no mind.

So the Syrian ignored him and moved a little closer to the piggish man and the bags he was protecting. The bags that had come from inside a bank. The bags the beautiful woman had pointed to.

The Syrian thinking, inshallah, this might turn out to be a very good day.

Debrief

DEBRIEF