The Mosaic in the Lobby
There are things about Trafalgar Court that Natalie and I will always remember, purely because they’re too strange to forget. Here’s a good example: the giant mosaic hanging on the wall of the lobby. It was an ocean-themed mural of grinning turtles, mermaids, and clownfish, scattered across a kelp forest, their mouths skewed into little pirate hooks.
“Those things are evil,” Dave, the veteran security guard, and resident bead artist once said, tying up his creamy ponytail with a length of old ribbon. “They give me nightmares.”
I turned to Ntobeko for a second opinion.
“Something’s not right,” the younger guard said, shimmying his hands back and forth across his face. He was a trained boxer and his movements always looked like a defensive drill or an exercise in speed. “I don’t look at them at night.”
“What do you think they’re laughing at?” I wondered.
“Maybe they’re planning to burn this complex down?” Dave said without a trace of sarcasm. Then he giggled and jabbed his elbow into Ntobeko’s side.
I felt bad for those guys, having to spend their nights under the entrance’s spotlights, face to face with the mural’s pets. I had noticed Dave’s complexion was nearly translucent, the lack of Vitamin D shown in the veins coursing up his neck. Like the figures in the mosaic that haunted his sleep and warped his sense of humor, Dave was starting to look off.
Full story at Medium.