At the Harold Washington Library, near closing I set up shop on the last table before one of the half circle windows on the south facing side of the building. I had set down a stack of books to note down to pick up later, but I became distracted by the view outside.
Through the half-turned mini-blinds, I looked at the sunlight hitting the side of an orange-bricked newish building and its neighbor, an older 10 story brick building with a much smaller footprint. Between the two, vertical slices of buildings were stacked, further and further away, a rectangular cut-out collage flattened by perception and distance.
A man behind me talked loudly to his friend. He pulled a barbecue sauce out of his bag. “I got this...this sauce ain’t shit! This sauce, its heinz. It’s shit. I only eat Big Baby Ray’s. I usually only buy Big Baby Ray’s, but I thought, fuck it. I’ll try this. And it aint SHIT!”
“Shhh!” his friend admonished.
“Sorry, sorry. It ain’t shit. It’s not even spicy!”
I looked from the view out of the window to the stack of books I had set down to go through. Listening to the men behind me talk seemed to be more important than taking notes on a few books of art criticism, theater and movie reviews.
“They stole 3 phones from me! 3 phones! They stole one on the 3rd floor. They stole one on the 5th floor. And they stole one up here.”
His voice raised as he continued, working himself up until his friend shushed him gently again. This cycle would repeat. He would apologize each time and speak softer. For a time. He just couldn’t help himself. As he talked, he got louder and louder, energized by his every complaint and expression.
The PA clicked on and as the library staffer began to speak his 1st line, the man behind me blurted out, “It’s not supposed close until 5! What time is it?”
“Attention library patrons, the library will be closing in 30 minutes, please make all of your selections and proceed to the first floor checkout desk. Again, the library will be closing in 30 minutes.”
“Ah, ok, ok. That makes sense.”
As the men began to collect their things, they were debating where they would go next. “Man, I don’t want to go to Barnes & Noble, I came from there earlier.”
I heard their voices getting softer and further away.
“And if I don’t make it by this month, that’s 2 months late in a row, I’ll owe another $50. Man shit, I need to get some work. All the work has disappeared.”
“They’re going to chain my locks at the end of the month. That’s what they told me.”