Wednesday, December 14, 2016


Tan coat and bad shave doesn't hold the door for the person behind him after he exits the building, and it swings closed forcefully, but I'm just able to catch it with a grumble before it hits me in the face and I follow him out onto the street.

Not that I'm following him, understand, just that we're going in the same direction down the same street at the same time, so when he reaches the line of cop cars parked in front of the doughnut shop, I'm there to see him wave to each car as he passes; a strange sort of little-boy wave, all wrist and hand, and he's looking into each car, trying to make eye contact as he goes.

I pull one ear bud out to hear what he's saying when he stops to chat with some regular looking guy on the sidewalk.

"...and they're always within five hundred feet of wherever I am," he says, pointing to the cop cars, "I don't know why."

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