Nubby

They called her Nubby. The townspeople, that is. If anyone took the time to think about it, they'd realize that wasn't really her name, but nobody did. To them, she'd always been Nubby.

It was a cruel and accurate name. Her arms were deformed. Nobody knew how or why they'd shriveled and lost their use, but there they were; hanging lifelessly. She manipulated them like fixed weights, somehow wedged a broom under one shoulder and pushed down with her other arm; back and forth, back and forth.

It's how she made a living. She swept every day, all day long; mechanically keeping the sidewalks clean. It is all she did.

She did not speak, or seem to hear or understand when spoken to. Folks had stopped trying to engage her long ago. If an outsider asked about her, they'd tell him, "Oh, that's just Nubby."

One day a stranger passed through town. He spotted her sweeping past the diner window, and he was intrigued. So, he went out to meet her.

He tapped her on the shoulder gently to get her attention, but she kept working. He stuck out his hand and introduced himself, but she ignored him. He planted himself directly in front of her, but she just turned around and swept the other way.

Her reactions strengthened his resolve. He got more creative as the days went on; presented her with a pretty flower, which she didn't seem to notice. The cup of coffee he brought on a brisk afternoon cooled quickly as she passed it by.

He persevered, day after day. And she gave him no response.

Until he joined her. Early one morning he brought his own broom and set to work. As silently as she, he swept. Midway into the day, he realized there was a rhythm to their movements. At the end of the day, he saw her glance at him.

The music of their instruments continued; swish, push, swish. The glance became a look, the look became a curious gaze. The gaze turned into a delighted recognition. He always talked to her as they worked. His words and laughter became lyrics.

She spoke. Seemingly random, as every unexpected thing is, she said, "Ann". He told her she had a pretty name and kept working. Filled with joy, he wanted to ask her more, yet somehow he knew it would be better for her to volunteer it.

She did. He learned much about her; that she'd suffered and shut down part of her long ago. Like a body without a torso, she had been walking through life mechanically, lifelessly.

Until his friendship awakened her. Where there once had been silence, there was now the beginning of a song.