Daniel sits cross-legged on a smooth cement slab, the former loading dock of a shuttered brick warehouse. “Hart’s — San Jose’s Big Department Store — Warehouse No. 2” appears in white paint on the brick wall above him, in a style that suggests it is at least a hundred years old. There is a heart behind the letter “H.” Graffiti in the area is prolific, but the Hart’s sign has escaped desecration.
Below and 30 feet or so away from where Daniel sits, he has lined up a series of plastic soda bottles and beer cans near a railroad siding. Here and there are puddles of green fluid that look like antifreeze. Daniel is certain someone should be held responsible for depositing these chemicals.
The weather is gray and miserable, but unable to commit itself to being an actual storm. In between throwing rocks at the bottles, Daniel reflects. He wishes he was sitting on the loading dock 40 years ago when Hart’s was still open, throwing rocks at real glass bottles instead of plastic ones. He wonders if he spends too much time reflecting. He wonders what he will wonder about next.
He knows he should go back to his apartment before the rain comes, but he cannot leave the Hart’s loading dock until he knocks over three bottles in a row, because that’s the rules. Daniel likes to make rules for himself, like the rule that determines when he may leave the Hart’s loading dock. And he refuses to break these self-imposed rules, for to do so would show a lack of integrity.
In the distance he notices a mass of cardboard and rags. It is most likely the home of a homeless person. He is at first amused by the irony of this and then tells himself it’s really not that funny. He looks back and forth between the obsolete railroad tracks in front of him, and the street, where an electric light rail train glides by almost noiselessly.
Daniel jumps from the loading dock and walks to his collection of bottles, careful not to step in the acid green puddles. He resets the bottles that he has knocked over, grabs a handful of suitable rocks, and returns to the loading dock. His first throw lands in one of the green puddles. The next two strike their targets, toppling two of the plastic bottles. Daniel knows everything hinges on his next throw. The crowd is silent. All eyes are on Daniel. He checks the wind speed and direction. He scans the horizon. He chooses a perfectly positioned bottle. He squints, winds up, and unleashes his throw, which bounces off the edge of the loading dock, and, miraculously, floats earthward again, knocking over a third bottle, and freeing Daniel from his imprisonment on the Hart’s loading dock.
It was, thinks Daniel, a shot for the highlights reel. It begins to drizzle. Fortunately, Daniel is free to go home.