August 1, 2016

8 | 1 | 2016

He's an older gentleman in a three-piece suit, holding a cane. "We're not moving, not moving, are we?" He asks without expecting an answer from me. I smile and pull my earphones out, two pieces of pizza on my lap and a pile of garlic knots stinking up the space, gratefully the bus nearly empty despite the 5 PM commute, but I don't say a word. I leave the earphones out as the bus hums with stillness before lurching forward towards my stop, the best I can offer. When I gather my things up to leave, the man points at the store on my block corner and says "That's a good place. Go there." "I will. I will," I assure him and step off the bus.

This evening the sun sets under the clouds and night arrives the earliest it has all summer. The heat and humidity of July finally gone and in their place a damp coolness. Relief. I grab my keys and walk through the dark apartment without turning on the light, close the door behind me without locking the deadbolt and I go there, the good place on the corner. The florescent lights yellow against the dark blue sky, and the store empty other than the sounds of my flip-flops hitting the floor. A cool breeze flows through the door as I put two dollars on the counter. He's young, looks hardly sixteen, has his earphones in, and asks if I want a bag. "No, no, no thank you," and I turn towards the breeze.

I walk down in the sidewalk with lemon seltzer in my hand, in the still-blue night and the cool breeze, and it's enough. The moment is enough, and that is everything.