The Tassel

The soft light of the winter sun leaned into the street and through the pane, misted by the moist air in the warm cafe. He sat before a half empty cup of tea, looking without purpose or focus at the passing tableau outside. Christmas was near, and the street was filled with the city's denizens in top hats and woolen cloaks seeking comfort in the collection of gifts. He felt no particular need for comfort having no one whose favor he sought, or whose happiness he wished and his spirit was ambivalent to the season, for no particular reason than this was his mood.

His gaze passed into an impeccable private Hansom drawn by two horses, nearly motionless across the muddy street. It was the subtle movement within that caught his attention. A tassle moving to and fro at the bequest of a string from which dangled a small doll figure, flicked from time to time by a young girl, wholly bored. She became momentarily focused quickly untying the string from around the doll's waist, and sitting back, disappearing into the cab. The change of heart had been brought on by the doorman opening the cab to allow in a well dressed haughty woman of middle age who sat with much drama next to the child. Seamlessly the door was closed, the doorman withdrew, the Hansom driver turned the cab into the lane and drove steadily but unhurriedly away through the slush.  The cab disappeared thorough a heavy snow which had begun to fall, quieting the street. With that, the man returned languidly to his tea.