I returned to my car after I purchased my hot breakfast coffee and noticed a handrail thin young man in a worn blue hoodie. The raindrops on my windshield didn’t obscure his droopy pants when he strutted by the front of my car. Smoke and steam billowed from his nostrils appearing like horns of a bull.
I wiggled my nose, blinked my eyes, and glanced over my shoulder following his path. He hooked arms with a woman in a red cape.
There’s a man I see every morning during my commute time. He carries a peanut butter colored, 1970’s styled briefcase. He’s usually dressed sharp and his path is determined. When he walks, it’s more like a march. When he runs, it’s more like a prance. He never moves his upper body.
I wiggled my nose, blinked my eyes, and pulled into the local grocery store. I saw the man march up to a sign spinner. She had earphones and was wiggling to her own beat. He tapped her on the shoulder, their eyes met, and she kissed him on the cheek.
Monday morning, I was sitting and glancing through The Book Thief. I looked up to notice a woman teetering on velvet wrapped, black heeled boots. Her face reflected her discomfort. She huffed when she passed. I think, I heard a whimper.
I wiggled my nose, blinked my eyes, and spotted a man behind the check-out counter. He smiled at the woman, she frowned. After she put the books down on the counter, he complimented her on her fashion sense. He appreciated her coordinated outfit.
She stood taller with her shoulders back and strutted out the store.
The sun was out, birds were flying, and the sky was blue. This is something rare in Seattle. I was driving at ten in the morning and spotted a woman at the bus stop. She was dressed in a three piece suit and heels. On her shoulders, she carried three differently colored bags loaded to bust. Her beat expression conveyed that she wasn’t enjoying the good weather.
I wiggled my nose, blinked my eyes, and when I glanced into the rearview mirror, a man in a clown suit offered her a flower and shouldered two of her bags.