It was nearly August of 1901. Queen Victoria was dead, the West was won, and the city of Allisport screamed into the scalding, muggy summer heat of the new century. Steamships dotted the lake's horizon, and the overhead trains rattled over the streets. Of the city's six train stations, none were ever quiet. Trolleys trundled over the cobblestone streets to the protests of horse-drawn carriages and vendors. The glimmer of the first few motorcars in Allisport spluttered, aggressive, down the avenues.
Walking amongst the charred memories of the World's Fair, two men took the winding, tree-shaded paths of Jackson Park. The lake air blowing off the cerulean water was not enough to cool anyone. Their faces were shadowed by their hats. Their words were taut, withholding. Their faces were flushed, eyes a gentle pink. Their hands, for a moment, fumbled over the other's before they withdrew them into their pockets. They fiddled with their pocket watches, straightened their summer suits. A melancholia perfumed the air around them.
By the time they departed the park, the world was golden, burning.
In five days time, one would be in a prison cell.
Comments (13)
See all