Callum

(This is another Snapshot piece. It was written as I observed an older gentleman on the tube in London last December. It's not finished yet, but meet Callum.)

Every morning Callum gets on the tube with his daily paper and a crossword puzzle. You might call him a regular, as he rides the same seven stops from South Kensington to Russell Square every morning, to his good friend’s cafe.  Callum retired many years ago from the theatre business, where he worked on the west end building and painting sets.  He’d done many different sets for many different plays.  It was the only thing he really enjoyed doing, other than his daily crossword puzzles, and he still volunteered in the theatre on some weekends.  Callum had been married for many years also, but Elsa had passed away at an untimely age, and he never saw fit to marry again.  Now he spent his days sitting outside Milt’s cafe at a tiny table for two, smoking cigarettes and sipping espresso.  Callum always wore two pairs of reading glasses around his neck, and his sweater never quite matched the bright blue stocking cap that barely covered the white tufts of hair sprouting behind his ears.