coruscate,
Literary: Déjà Vu
It's surprising to see how I'm staring at the bottom of this escalator again here in the mall downtown where my mother used to take me out shopping.
This grid pattern of the metallic ridges on the landing plate still feel cold to the feet despite wearing leather shoes. Back when I was seven, I'd wait a while just to feel the vibrating sensation below me, eyes closed, before my mother grips my hand tighter to pull me into the escalator's steps. Now it's just me, wallowing at the sight of the yellow outlines of the rising metal steps appearing in front as I slowly, delicately grab onto the comfy rubber handrails. And the force of the machine drives me forward to take a step.
Slightly wobbling and out of balance, I composed myself to stand up straight while staring at the line of retail stores with flashing colors to my right. Snapping to the left, I see faces going down opposite of my direction. Familiar faces. Faces of my two childhood friends, the bully back in elementary, my grandfather, the postman who came by every Sunday, my first girlfriend, our homeroom teacher, my mother. It's funny, it's been a while. A long while.
I looked at my hands; they couldn't reach the handrails anymore. I shrunk. I'm a child again.
A teardrop trickled ever so slightly, before it hit the ascending step below me. I looked back up to the top of the flight. Somebody must've installed a trash can between the parallel escalators after I left town, though I do recognize the potted plant across it to the right still standing tall. I fixed my collar and stepped out of the escalator with perfect timing. As I pictured, the good ol' upper floor looks the same; yet something felt different and new. I let out a hefty sigh.
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