Short Short Kant

It all started when Kant saw a woman. A woman wearing a black suit, with an H-line skirt in black stockings. Kant had a habit of watching people walk past him while he sat on his park bench, a small ways off from his small one bedroom located on the fourth floor of a dingy apartment complex.

Today was no different, and the woman was almost enough for Kant to look past her entirely. She had no perceptible aura, or any distinguishing features, besides a mole under her right eye that seemed to inspire an image of a woman in a slit dress showing off her leg just for you. It demanded Kant’s attention, and belied unseen depth to the woman passing him. But for Kant, it wasn’t the mole that had captured his attention, but the soles of her flats were distinctly different. Kant couldn’t help but wonder how she normally walked, when no one was watching.

Yet for all this, the woman couldn’t hold Kant’s attention for long, even as she walked by him, he started to lose interest in her. At that moment however, she received a call, and started yelling at the phone a few moments later. She faced away from Kant, and faced the overpass situated a few dozen meters ahead. She started pacing a little bit, but never faced him. By this time the woman had captured all of Kant’s attention, and he took the opportunity to examine her thoroughly. She did not have any special characteristics, her fashion was that of a regular office woman, a starched shirt, immaculate jacket, and a straight, no frills office skirt. When Kant inspected her further though, he found that she was a series of “almost’s”. She almost had a slender neck, but it was slightly thick around where her skull joined her spine. Her hips were just that bit narrow, almost evening out with her waist, and her chest was utterly flat. 

Looking at her unnerved Kant; he felt a spider crawl up his spine, warning him of its presence, yet not announcing any danger; his instincts were only incomprehension and his mind a mess. A human is not meant to be made up of so many almost’s you see, we are all either “too fat” or “too slim”, “too much” or “too less”, our existences interfere with each other and don’t allow for a multitude of coincidences to overlap in a series of almost’s, yet that was what stood before Kant, and he could not help but cringe away.

After a few more minutes of the woman alternating between yelling at her phone, and quietly listening while pacing, she yelled for the last time, and snapped her phone shut. She then turned around, and Kant  saw a contorted face. It unsettled him; it was not expressive enough to be called an outright scowl, yet by no stretch of the imagination could she also possibly be holding a neutral expression. It was as if her face was something an alien had picked up by the side of the road and was now attempting to mimic human emotion and expression in front of other humans. 

The image of her human mimicry vanished like a wraith in the breeze, leaving only a smile, yet it did no good to settle Kant’s unease, and its swift vanishing only heightened it.

“I apologise for the ruckus Mr…?”


“I apologise for the ruckus Mr.Kant, please take this for your trouble.”

The woman attempted to force upon Kant a card, presumably her business card, but Kant refused out of propriety, resulting in a back and forth eventually ending in Kant’s loss, due to him not wanting to seem rude. The woman handed him her card with a smug expression, and Kant put it in a pocket without even looking down at it, as if it had no meaning at all. 

“I’m sure you’ll find my card very useful in the future Mr.Kant, but i must be going now, I have a business to take care of after all!”

The woman left, but what remained was the experience. Kant thought that he would not easily forget this encounter. He felt that a woman in a thick heeled shoe, with a mole under her right eye, and a H-line skirt was not to be trifled with. He thought back to when he accepted her card, and remembered her face pulling to a neutral expression from her smile, as if a force had tugged on the edges of her face. Kant cringed again, and felt that he needed a long shower to rid himself of his unpleasant memory.