Indicia 2.2 Winter/Spring 2018

He steps out of the car.

“I got locked out,” I say, gesturing at my bare torso.

“You want a shirt?” he says. He goes to unlock the door, but he drops his keys.

I pick them up. The keys are attached to a personalized keychain from Walgreens. There’s a reprint of an old photo in the square frame. A young couple holds hands on a boardwalk with a roller coaster in the background.

“That was her,” he says.

He opens the door and steps inside. I linger behind, still on the stoop.

“What kind of shirt would you like?” He opens the door wider.

“What was her name?” I ask.

“Libby.” He pauses. “Lovely Libby.”

I gaze at one of the sea captains in his bay window. “I’d like to hear about her someday.”

He scratches his chest. His hand is shaking. “I’ve got lots of time now, and plenty of coffee.”

I lean down to pick up the newspapers and pamphlets and menus. Cool air streams from the doorway. The old man lumbers down the hall. Then I catch sight of something flitting between my feet.

It’s the lizard.

He shakes his tail and darts inside, following my neighbor into the kitchen.

I hear a gruff voice behind me. “You the guy who called the locksmith?”

I look over my shoulder. A stocky man in short sleeve coveralls is standing on the street. I straighten up and turn around.

“I’m here to let you in.”

I don’t say anything for a while. Then I nod.

“Which one are you?” he asks.

I point at the record sleeve and Tupperware on the steps in front of my townhouse. Then I walk backward through my neighbor’s entryway and close the door.

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