“Watch out,” the man mumbles as I swing the exit door outwards, nearly hitting him on my way out of the market. The syrup I was looking for was no where to be found, and I only have a couple of hours before my guests arrive, so I’m in a bit of a rush.
And anyway, I didn’t touch him, or even mildly inconvenience him, so what’s the big deal, and what was he doing walking on that side of the sidewalk anyway?
I’m a block away before I realize I’m having another argument with a person who isn’t even there, and who has likely already forgotten about me, to boot.
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