Jonas, On Time
Jonas found himself on his usual walk home from his shipping clerk job at Northwest Produce and Packing, where he'd been since 1937. It was 5:37pm on a rainy and overcast Thursday afternoon. By the time Jonas walked the remaining nine blocks and up the four flights of stairs to his apartment in the old rundown Jewish Community neighborhood on Scranton's south side, it would be 6:11pm. In Jonas 63 years, he'd always been a counter; from the windows on the tall brick apartment buildings on his walk home, to taxi cabs and the shipping inventory. Even when he had no place to be, he counted time.
Jonas turned the top step, rolled back his wet trench coat sleeve to see that it was 6:11pm. Mm hmm. Letting go of the large wooden handrail, he stopped. He brought the paper thin skin of his face together into a wrinkled squint. There was a plain brown parcel package leaning against his apartment door. He walked slowly over to his door, fumbling for his key as he always did, never taking his attentive eyes from the package between his old worn out two tone brogue dress shoes-just like Fred Astaire use to wear, back in the good ole days. Jonas snatched up the package, gave a quick look both ways down the barren hallway, and slipped into his apartment slamming the door behind him with the quickness and stealth of his youth.
The package was addressed by hand.
505 Jackson Avenue
Scranton, PA 18411 Ap