“Sorry. Yeah, I’m done.” I stood and followed him to the front of the Emporium.
Luther’s workers were in the middle of installing my new window and making plenty of noise. Naturally I also had several customers on the floor at that time. And the fucking bricks were still in here. Granted, while I was out, the workers had helped Max move them to the back door, but they left the massive pile there, and my floor was covered in dust.
Max assisted customers at checkout while I grabbed a broom and made quick work of the mess, sweeping it all toward the back. I opened the door and swept the dust into the alley.You’re welcome, Luther.Setting the broom aside after, I started picking up the bricks one by one and piling them into the alley for my landlord to haul away.
It was only after I’d been at this for several moments that I took notice of the bricks in my hands as being different shades. The world existed to me in varying types of gray, due to my achromatopsia, but in reduced lighting, I could still clearly tell when colors differed. To an extent I could even guess colors, but only when it was sort of obvious, like grass was green, my hair was brown, the ocean was blue. These all have unique shades when seen as gray.
My world is vibrant, in its own sense.
So when I turned and went back to the pile of bricks and really started to look, there were a number of mismatching shades. And that told me that there was no way these were bought in a large number from a modern shop. I shut the back door with my foot and crouched down to start examining the bricks.
Some were even and well made; others had small chips or weren’t quite uniform, as if they hadn’t stood the test of time. Most felt well-worn in my hands—so definitely not new. I started pawing through the pile more quickly, finding an abundance that had stampings on them, but it was hard to read. I pulled my magnifying glass from my sweater pocket and held it up to the brick.
Boff—no—Buffalo Blocks.
Huh.
“What’re you doing?”
I looked over my shoulder to see Max staring down at me. “Hey.” I motioned toward the pile. “These aren’t the same colors, are they?”
“Uh, I guess not.”
“What color?”
“Brick color.”
“You’re fucking hysterical,” I said.
Max shrugged. “What’s it matter? They’re like a reddish color. Some are a bit darker, a not really purple. It’s hard to say.”
“But definitely not matching,” I concluded.
“No,” Max said, shaking his head. “Does that mean something?”
I turned to stare at the pile again. “I don’t know. Maybe. They’re old.”
“Want to sell them?” Max asked, and I wasn’t sure if he was joking.
“What I mean is, they weren’t purchased from a store around here, you know? And this…,” I said, raising the brick I had been reading. “Buffalo Blocks.”
“Should that mean something to me? Hey. Is this like one huge, elaborate test to see if I know as much random shit as you? Am I up for a raise?”
“No, it’s not a test, and no, you get no raise, since you failed.”
“You said it wasn’t a test!”
I shrugged and looked at the brick once more. “Oh. I think this is Buffalo, Kansas.”
Max grumbled.
I set the brick down and wiped my hands on my slacks while standing.
“Wait a minute,” Max said, breaking my concentration. “I know that look.”
I turned to him, raising a brow. “Come again?”
“The weird crease you get here when you’re thinking too hard,” he said, touching his own forehead. “You’re not sleuthing, are you?”
