Souls Intact

Glass tinkled against the concrete. A street light shimmered down on the shards in the wee hours of the morning. The Wilmington, Delaware native Agnes Sylvester, forty-five and chestnut colored and about five feet four inches, kept sweeping. Her storefront had been destroyed by a rock, a canister or something. All she knew was that she had to be vigilant.

Right down the block, fifty-year-old Seward Dorsey placed large rectangular slabs on his window space. He was tallish, coffee brown skinned with soft features and a grizzly voice. A message appeared on his phone. It displayed the words: “We’ve got this.” Agnes sent it. Dorsey smiled.

While she answered for the protests he was preparing for them.

After completely covering his storefront like it was a fortified military installation, Dorsey made his way down the street to meet up with Agnes.

“Hey, stranger,” Seward said. Agnes still had the broom in her hand and looked up and smirked. She placed one hand on top of the other to indicate she had just about enough time to talk it over with him.

“Lovely to see you. Hate that it has to be at this time.”

“That’s alright. We’re coming out of a storm in order to see a brighter day. Once these protests die down, you’ll have enough insurance money and I’ll be able to make up for any potential lost merchandise.”

“The problem also lies with the streets. They call them public places, but they should be owned privately and protected by the city and state. Even a parade is an annoyance because it permits people to block entry and exit ways. This, though. It’s out of control. Where do people even find the time to ‘protest’ and go on hunger strikes and disrupt other people’s property?” Agnes wondered. She returned to sweeping.

“I know what you mean. It’s like they don’t see the detriment they’re causing to their fellow neighbors. As backward as all of this is, it is amazing just to comprehend how little the crowds care about private property. I’ll give it to the police. They maintain order as best they can without violating rights,” Seward added.

Then, chants started to grow louder. A stirring, quaking sort of rumble began to rise up right where the two of them stood.

“Here comes another wave,” Seward said.

Agnes took a dustpan and gathered the bits of glass and placed them in a blue plastic bin. All of her energy and strength seemed to derive from her staunch position as guardian of her clothing store.

Seward stood beside her. An arm wrapped around her as she wept.

“I don’t want this to happen anymore,” she said.

“We’ll fight. We’ll recognize the people’s right to assemble but to not disturb the peace in any way. It’s alright,” Seward replied.

The collection of voices and sounds was like a cacophony and a stream of colors and banners a mosaic, respectively. The people continued down Fifth Street but decided against going downtown where the banks and other big and small businesses thrived.

“Isn’t that something? They’ll stomp on their own backyard but forgo the shops in the business district. I’m not saying that’s right, either. Don’t get me wrong. But I’m saying they know better than to throw a fit around there. The police presence will definitely be in full force there,” Seward observed.

Agnes smiled for the first time in a long time. “Yes, that’s the truth. They’d rather tear up our businesses than to go down there and cause a ruckus,” she agreed.

Next, one of the policemen hurled a tear gas grenade at a protester. The young woman picked it up and hurled it awkwardly. It was so awkward that it sailed through the air and almost struck Agnes' right cheek. She reached up to her face. Then she took the broom and charged towards the agitator. Seward stopped her.

“You’re alright. You’re alright,” he coughed and threw the canister down out of their way. He clutched her close to him. She began to cry again.

“I don’t want this,” Agnes admitted.

“No one does. We’re going to have to keep our souls intact. Our minds will be our only weapon against them. We’re the owners. We have property for residence and commerce in this city. We are the few and the great,” Seward responded.

Agnes turned to him and planted a kiss on his cheek as the protesters continued to stream down the row of homes and businesses.

“I thank you for that. It gives me greater clarity to the way that these roving mobs are disrupting our town. It doesn’t matter what they’re fighting for if they’re going to destroy our way of making a living. There’s just no way to forgive that,” Agnes related. A sense of urgency and genuine emotion bubbled up in her speech.

“That’s why we will stand guard like sentinels in the night. You and I and that broom will be right here on this corner trying to make sense of all of this.”

The two of them looked at the yelling people. The anger and the confusion ran rampant among them. Their faces looked like angry paintings. With their fists raised in the air, they continued their advance down the street. When someone tried to go near Agnes’ shop, Seward grabbed her broom.

“Go on! Get out of here!” He yelled. The protester threw his hands up in the air and ran back to the mob.

“You didn’t have to do that, but you did. Thank you, Seward.”

“It’s my duty as knight of this castle to protect the queen.”

“When are you going to be my king?”

Seward’s smile turned into a trillion watt light bulb.

“Oh, you’re going to have to give me a minute there. Amongst all this chaos, you really want to be as one, Agnes?”

“The clock is ticking extra loud for me and I know you want someone to go down this road together.”

Sirens blared and an ambulance streaked by a dazzle of red and white lights.

“Even in all of this, I must say that I do.” Seward leaned over and pecked Agnes’ neck and put out her hand. They walked together from her store to his.

“I’ve got extra boards to help you patch up what was broken,” Seward proclaimed.

“That would be much appreciated, sir,” Agnes beamed.