Frankie thinks he can see through walls if he looks long
enough. He’d practice at the shop on his breaks until the other guys started
making fun of him. During lunch he’s taken to folding the newspaper into
quarters and pretending to do the crossword. All the while he’s looking over
the top of it, fixed on the other end of the room.
I asked him about it before he got all secretive. He was
taking a smoke break, but just letting the cigarette turn to ash while he
stared. Why walls? I said. Frankie jumped. A guy my size, Frankie’s the only
one I can sneak up on. What? He said. He looked flustered. May it’s because
those were the first words we ever spoke to each other.
-I heard you’re trying to seeing through walls.
Frankie shrugs. I go on.
-Why not try something easier first, like paper or cardboard
or something.
One of the other guys laughs.
-It doesn’t work that way, he says. It’s got to do with the
molecules, and- I read this thing about walls and how the molecules and there’s
like this probability and if things align right, and like it said, just because
something is improbable, don’t make it impossible. You know? …It was explained
better in this thing I read.
Jim caught the tail end of this answer. Oh yeah yeah yeah,
he says, cigarette in mouth. He lights, puffs and continues. Makes perfect
sense. I heard this guy who found a way to see through walls… it’s called a
window.
Frankie drops his ashy cigarette and stomps it out with his
boot. He leaves before I can ask him what I really want to know – What wall
does he want to see through?
