He stooped and picked up a piece of paper.
He later wondered why he had done it. It was just lying there by the bus shelter. Maybe it was the fact that it looked official, rectangular with straight cut edges. It had no torn edges or visible markings, and it was small enough to fit in his shirt pocket. Face down, it was not apparent that it had anything on the other side, but it did. Turning it over on his ride home revealed a simple hand-written note. It was penned in a nice, neat writing style, just a few words, clearly legible. It read ‘AM – Our blinding moment needs to be moved – P.’ He began to wonder what it could mean. He felt an unexpected sense of excitement about the mystery, the message was certainly thought-provoking.
He was single, fairly reserved and in his mid-twenties, the sort of person that nothing out of the ordinary ever happened to. But this piece of paper… it had started something. That evening, instead of his usual dose of television, he sat staring at the message, speculating about its meaning. It seemed to be cryptic. It could be a love note, changing some prearranged tryst to another time. He kept coming back to the question of why anyone would use the words ‘blinding moment’. Had it been misspelled? He considered the possible links with eyesight and window blinds. He lost track of how long he spent trying to work it out. Before going to bed, he tried to get it out of his head with the notion that it was probably just one of those private jokes between people, a code that no casual reader would understand.
The following night he left the office much later than usual. It was a cold night and he was annoyed with himself for missing his bus. He knew that there was going to be a long wait between buses at this hour.
So, as the stop was right in front of the library, and seeing that this was their late night, he decided to kill twenty minutes, spending them in the warmth of the building. He couldn’t remember the last time he paid it a visit. As he entered, he saw that they had made a few changes. A corner of the main room had been set aside to display a small selection of pictures, mainly the works of local artists.
It was then that he saw it; the ‘Blinding Moment.’ A very large painting of a boy, with his hand shading his eyes from the sun. Beneath it was a small notice that read, ‘If there is a requirement to move any of the exhibits, please contact the Archives Manager.’ There it was, Archives Manager, AM; and P, the sender. He was still staring at the painting when a pretty girl walked past. She smiled at him and he returned it. She was obviously on staff; her badge read Penny. He was watching her go when she turned and came back.
“It’s good, don’t you think?” She said, while studiously gazing at it.
“I do. It hasn’t been here long.”
“Pardon?”
“Here, in this position, I mean. It’s pretty big. Where was it before?”
Although surprised by the question, she pointed to another wall.
He nodded with appreciation and said, “I’m glad you asked for it to be moved… it’s much better here.”
She stared at him in disbelief and said, “How could you possibly know all that?”
He took a deep breath. “Tell you what,” he said with a smile, “when the library closes, if you join me for a coffee in that café across the street, I’ll tell you.”