Uncouth

I come out of the daze of my phone screen to find a woman staring at me from across the train aisle. I’ve done nothing I’m aware of that might elicit enmity, so I put my phone away and look around the car.

She relaxes, leans back, and puts her foot up on the pole directly in front of her seat. This seems a bit uncouth, but nothing I haven’t seen before, so I continue looking around, while the man next to me, seeing the sole of her foot towards him, sighs and rolls his eyes.

Times I Went Outside Today: 2

At the bottom of the stairs, I shoulder the enormous bag of laundry and trudge down to the corner. I think of peasants carrying enormous bags of sticks, like on that Led Zeppelin album cover. 

At the laundromat, I drop it off after receiving assurances that I can pick it up, clean and dry and folded, before the end of the day, a privilege for which I will pay dearly, and then head back home. The cloudy sky that has been threatening rain all morning begins to pour in earnest, and I wrap my flannel around me and run across the street, my size 12 Converse flapping on the rapidly wetting asphalt until I'm safely under the awning of the real estate office around the corner from my apartment, and I walk under that until I'm safely home.

Sources Of Light

Sunset reflecting off the metal subway car wall bright as a burning filament above a woman bent over her phone. The phone is a weaker light, but she can barely look away to acknowledge the enormous ball of nuclear fire sinking into the west over New Jersey. She looks up and squints into the real as it bands across her eyes.

I pull out my phone to type this, despite the notebook and pen in my bag.

Nice Save

It is well past time when the store closes, but of course we don't kick people out, so the woman in nurse's scrubs coming up to me with a shoe in her hand, while not my favorite, is just part of the deal of working retail.

As she hands me the shoe to fetch from the stockroom, she fixes me with a tired smile and says, "I just want to go home."

Before I know what I'm saying, out of my mouth comes, "I want you to go home too."

"...because I can see in your eyes how tired you are, and I sympathize completely," I add without a pause, and she laughs, and we just keep it going. 

Sweet Sorrow

The floofiest dog I've ever seen (imagine Bob Ross's halo of curls given four legs and a rambunctious personality) catches sight of me on the shoe floor, and we lock eyes, sharing a moment as you do with a random dog. He immediately stops to greet me, like a good boy, stopping his owner dead at the end of his leash as she heads toward the elevator.

But I'm the manager, so I can't inconvenience her, so in order not to impede her progress, I start walking too. The dog is totally on board with the addition to his traveling pack, and together we bound to the elevator, where his grateful owner offers me sheepish thanks while a confused dog watches as the doors close.

Cops

The cops come on the train with all the subtly of a car wreck, banging on things and triggering some sort of electronic, high-frequency whistle to wake up the old guy sleeping across the bench. Then they stand around, looking vaguely stupid and muscle-y, and since things have sort of hit some sort of equilibrium and they seem poised to do no further mischief, I go back to reading my book.

They all seem to be wearing masks, so we can be grateful for that, I guess.

There's a loud bang, and a dozen heads all snap up from phones and books simultaneously, but it's just one of the meathead cops dropping his phone, and he sheepishly bends over to pick it up while the handle of his pistol digs into the dough of his abdomen.

Dad's Favorite

The toddler with the ball has been running all over the park, taking aim at anything that stays still long enough, throwing the ball at the thing, and then chasing after the ball, all of this while followed closely by his t-shirted, baseball cap wearing father.

Now however, he has found a new target: a smaller child in his family group, presumably his little brother. He eyeballs the distance, cocks his arm back, and lets fly, beaning the other child in the head.

His father pumps his fist in triumph while his little pitcher walks over, gives the smaller child a hug, and then throws him to the ground.