APPRECIATION

‘Can I change my laundry time?’ I said.
‘Permanently?’ said the caretaker I often saw in the laundry early Tuesdays.
‘Yes,’ I said, absorbing the self-inflicted impact on my routine.
The caretaker came over to where I stood by the glass fronted box the laundry times are displayed.
‘I’m here at the moment,’ pointing, ‘and I want to move here,’ pointing.
He took an old hinged glasses case out of the left side pocket on his shirt. He opened it, took out a tortoise shell framed pair of glasses. He put the case on the folding table near the window and the glasses on his face. He opened the time display box with a key on a bunch he got from the back pocket of his trousers.
He is a small man, hunched back stiff neck. We had a conversation last year and he told me he was going to retire in a few weeks but I never noticed he had and said soon after, ‘I thought you’d be retired by now.’ He didn’t seem to hear me, maybe he’s a bit deaf, it wouldn’t be unusual a man of his age, but he mightn’t of wanted to talk to me so ignored the question.
Today he was helpful.
‘Do you need a letter of confirmation?’ he said turning to me as he closed and locked the display box door.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Thanks for your help, appreciate it.’