A shine before the next train

An original literary non-fiction-style account of watching a shoe cleaner work outside a railway station.

He did not call after people. He looked at their shoes, then at the place where they might be going. A man with a wheeled case slowed, glanced at the chair and sat. Only then did the cleaner lift a brush. The transaction began with two small movements rather than a speech.

The customer rested one foot on the stand. His trouser leg rose just enough to reveal a bright red sock. Everything above it was grey: coat, suit, scarf. The cleaner held the shoe lightly at the heel and worked around the edge with a narrow cloth. His hands seemed to know a route which his eyes needed only to check. He glanced towards the station clock without losing the rhythm.

A bus sighed at the kerb. People stepped around the chair carrying the private weather of their morning: irritation, hurry, the blank look of somebody counting minutes. In the middle of it, the cleaner's arms moved briskly but without haste. Brush against leather, cloth across toe, a pause to inspect the result. The customer's shoulders lowered. He put his telephone away.

The final polish brought the window opposite into the shoe as a small, bent rectangle. The cleaner turned the foot slightly, making the reflected frame slide across the leather. Then he stepped back. The customer stood, looked down and adjusted the red sock before lowering his trouser leg. He walked towards the station at the same pace as before, but for several steps he watched his own feet.

How does the writer use language to present the cleaner's skill and its effect within the busy setting?