Seneca Ruiz walked dogs, but he looked like a nuthatch. His nose was pointed and he always carried a bag of peanuts, or cashews on special days, in his pocket so he could nibble as he hopped from sidewalk to stair or across busy lanes dodging cars as his dogs yipped and pulled. His eyebrows stretched across his visage with his head solidly joined to his short neck. He was small, not just short or thin, but small. When he went to the dry cleaners to take in his white serge suit, he was sure to wear his perfectly fitted Panama so it would poke up just above the counter acknowledging his presence to Mr. Lee.
Seneca was lucky that his stubby legs ended in a pair of large feet. At least they were large in comparison to his overall size. It made buying shoes easier, especially since he had a liking for Gucci that he proudly acquired only on sale at Saks during their Winter Blast. Big feet also gave Seneca a sense of safety as he clicked down the streets in the late evening after a lovely dinner of pasta, Shiraz and tiramisu at Gabriel’s. However, no one would ever think of messing around with Seneca Ruiz. He was small in stature but robust with charisma. Most thought he was just plain nuts and ignored him.
Author’s note: This short piece came from our writing prompt at Wednesday Afternoon Writers. I like Seneca and want to see more of him. Stay tuned.