Pulled into a corner gas station, not unlike the Circle-K at the intersection of McDowell and 7th Avenue in Phoenix. A young gas station attendant came out of the retail store front, greeting me and a few friends. He was light skinned with blond hair and glasses. An older, slightly chubby Harry Potter.
He walked toward the corner of the lot which had three or four slabs of new concrete, still grey and wet. He looked at the concrete pools, turned to us and said, “Watch this!”
Smiling, he jumped into the wet concrete, a good fifteen or twenty feet long and ten wide. He was treading, slowly, with his shoulders above the surface. Then he slowly sunk, still smiling, his arms at the surface at first, then no more. He chin, nose, glasses, and then finally nothing was left. He never struggled nor appeared afraid. We had all moved to the edge of the obviously very deep concrete pour, not certain what to make of this bizarre situation. A moment later his feet kicked through the surface, concrete splashing, and then he was gone.
We stood there, hands on thighs, watching, waiting … but he never came up again.
© Kai Staats 2007