When he was bent over the baby stroller he didn’t seem to be tall. He was talking to the child in the stroller while the woman he was with sat at one of the tables by the snack bar. Then the guy reached into the pocket of his loose black shorts and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
No, no! He’s not going to light up and smoke a cigarette next to the baby in the carriage? Then he straightened up and took a cigarette out of the package. Maybe he is skinny because he smokes, but he was really skinny. Maybe a bit taller than six feet and no more than 135 pounds. And pale pale pale white skin.
He wore his black baseball hat backwards. No shirt. Silver chain. Loose black shorts. Black boots and black socks. One tattoo on his skinny right bicep, a black Celtic cross. There was something about it that said “not a jailhouse tattoo.”
Then the tall pale skinny skeet made a good move. He took a cigarette out of the package and walked away from the baby carriage and the woman sitting at the table by the snack bar and he went over beside the snack bar and stood in the shade and smoked his cigarette.
He walked around the side of the snack bar and leaned up against the wall. Then he walked to the back of the snack bar and stood there for a bit and then he walked to the front and stood there a bit and then walked towards the back again and all of the time moving slowly and smoking his cigarette. Maybe that is what passes for exercise in the pen.
When he finished his cigarette he went back to the baby stroller. He leaned over the stroller talked to the baby and then the woman he was with got up and they walked away. He pushed the stroller like any good father on a warm, sunny day in the park.
