today in the post office a queue was growing during lunch hour in
brixton. a man stood behind a red curtain trying to get
a photo taken. we never saw his face. perhaps he was in a rush or the
machine was broken that day. he had a baby tucked under his arm like a
parcel wrapped in wool. it was lunch time rush at the post office so we
all waited in a snaked line which criss-crossed across the shop. the
baby made a slow noise like air being let from a balloon. the man raised a finger, the sound stopped. from behind the curtain we
heard a kick. the machine might have been dented but he was behind the
curtain so we could not see him. the baby grizzled and we heard a soft
hitting sound, a repeated pillow-bag punch with a voice demanding silence and more crying and louder. it had
been silent before. we all kept standing silent in
our places in the line and listened. no one moved. someone near the
front went to cashier number two. other babies in the line shook small
animal toys placed above their head. mothers touched their faces
distractedly and caught eyes with one other like in a secret club. finally a woman with a blue head scarf broke out of the line
crossing to the red curtain in the corner. the man saw her coming and
swore in her direction before turning a shoulder and moving off, the
baby's head bouncing up and down all the way down the street behind him. we do not know his name.
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