Elaine hesitated at the gate, she tucked her head down and pulled in the smell of the sleeping baby.
The southeaster turned tight corners in the neighbourhood of Salt River and rustled the rubbish along the road. A rusting coke can rolled along with a forgotten plastic bag. At the entrance to the building a rubbish skip overflowed. Occasionally the wind would catch and throw something into the air. Every few seconds the crash and shuffle of old cartons and bottles on the ground filled the space. Above the steel gates hung a wide multi-coloured signboard that several summers and repeated rains had bleached. There were cartoon figures and little children. In the centre of the sign was written “The Black River Parkway Boys’ Orphanage – Sponsored by Coca-Cola”.
‘Soek jy iets?’
There was an elderly woman standing on the other side of the gate. Elaine never forgot that face, the skin gnarled by time making her look pointy and crooked.
Elaine shook her head and turned around.
That night the old woman's worn face floated into her dreams. She'd seen it somewhere before. The realisation woke her up – it was her own face, after forty more years of living tired and dead inside.
She recalled the lines along the cheeks and the wasted bulges beneath the eyes. When she looked in the mirror she saw this face instead of her own.