A Question Across the Glass
An elderly man rested his fingertips against the polished glass of a display counter, leaning in toward a row of leather-strapped timepieces. His faded corduroy jacket hung loosely over a frayed knitted scarf, its fibers worn thin along the collar.
Behind the counter stood a young salesman in a tailored black suit, his tie knotted tightly beneath a pressed white collar. The young man straightened his posture, folded his hands over the edge of the glass case, and looked down at the older man’s worn cuffs.
“Excuse me, can I see that watch?” the customer asked, gesturing toward a polished dial resting on velvet beneath the glass.
The salesman shifted his weight from one foot to the other. A crease formed between his eyebrows as he shook his head slowly.
“You?” the clerk replied, letting his gaze drop across the older man’s clothing. “You can’t afford anything in this store.”
Voices Inside the Showroom
The older man did not pull his hands away from the counter. He kept his palms resting flat against the edge of the showcase and kept his shoulders still.
“I only came here to look,” he said softly, blinking behind metal-rimmed spectacles.
The clerk leaned forward across the glass, planting both palms firmly on the case until the reflection of overhead lights bent across the surface. His jaw tightened, and his neck muscles bulged against his starched shirt collar.
“Get out and look from outside!” the clerk raised his voice, thrusting an index finger toward the glass entrance doors.
The older man tilted his head slightly, studying the young man’s pointing hand. His expression remained level while the salesman’s chest rose and fell in short, sharp breaths.
“Why are you treating me like this?” the visitor asked in an even cadence. “This tells more about you than it does about me.”
The younger man walked around the edge of the counter, his leather shoes clicking against the marble floor. He stopped a few feet away, squaring his shoulders and thrusting his chin forward. “Get out or I’ll kick you,” he barked, gesturing dismissively toward the exit.
An Unexpected Question
The older man took a slow breath and adjusted the grey scarf around his neck. He watched the clerk take another aggressive step forward into the open aisle.
“Do you know who owns this store?” the man asked, resting his hands together in front of his coat.
The clerk rolled his eyes toward the ceiling fixtures before locking his stare back onto the customer. He crossed his arms tightly across his chest.
“I don’t care who you are,” the salesman answered without lowering his chin.
The older man paused for two beats, keeping his voice quiet and level. “You’re speaking to the owner,” he said, his eyes fixed squarely on the young employee. “You should never judge someone by their appearance.”
The salesman’s folded arms dropped loose at his sides. His jaw slackened, parting his lips as his eyes widened toward the older man standing in the worn corduroy jacket.
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