Water Tower

Jonas was in search of a lost boy named Patrick. Jonas thought of Patrick as lost not because of a missing persons report or other tangible means. Jonas had met the art major after reading many campus security reports noting Patrick’s presence around campus at all hours of the night: drawing in a notebook on the quad at three a.m., photographing various campus sculptures at midnight, or erecting an easel on the library steps in the predawn hours.

Patrick had transformed the dorm room into a neatly appointed space. By removing the acoustical tiles from the dropped ceiling and exposing the industrial pipes and duct work, the boy had created a modern loft feeling. A pale blue area rug softened the two exposed brick walls as did silken silver bedding.

Jonas scanned the walls looking for clues as to the tenant’s whereabouts. The walls were covered with art posters, ephemeral reminders of events, and conspicuous holes where loose clumps of tape hung. The closet and chest of drawers were empty save for a few ratty tee shirts, a pair of worn out flip-flops and a battered sketchbook. Jonas imagined the packing, but not the inciting incident.

Jonas settled onto the bed with the sketchbook and leafed through the pages: a cornfield, a stately farmhouse, a rail yard, and a water tower. Jonas looked from the drawing to the wall. The promotional poster boasted an art opening in Denver with an almost identical water tower. Jonas glanced at his watch. Almost four in Colorado, she should be able to catch someone at the gallery.

Photo: Kashmir Photography