There's always something, know what I mean? Something gets in the way of some simple thing you do, for some crazy reason nobody explains. Like this "epidemic," don't get me started. The real epidemic is people living in their own realities. OK, we all need to eat, and for me that means making the tired shopping trek to TJs after work. Bunch of other people waiting their turn to get in must have the same need, but that's all we share. Get the f*** out of my way! Just kidding.
No one talks, they're keeping their — what's do they all it — social distance. Get that any time you want, just take out your phone. That's what I do, and I'm about to beat my top Robo Football score when I just know someone's like, eyeing me. Look up, and I don't know him, but I know all about him. "Hey … " he starts in, and the smell of booze is overpowering. His clothes are filthy, skin shows through in places.
"I'm not even going to talk to you," I say, "if you're happy this way. Are you?" He does a sorrowful shuffle, then crosses his hand over his chest and shivers. It's cold and rainy. I nod and say "wait here."
I walk to the head of the line where this big guy, bouncer type, is letting in small groups as shoppers exit from another door. I look inside and see they're swabbing handbaskets and shopping carts with anti-bacterial wipes before giving them to the shoppers. Great. I say "needs extra cleaning help, be right out" and dart through the doors. The bouncer guy is too surprised to stop me. "Gimme some of those" I tell the startled cleaning crew, and score a fistful of wipes.
The guy stands were I'd left him, letting the line wend around him like he was a toxic dump. Maybe he doesn't realize I'd left, he is that … like I was once. I tug my sweater by way of explanation and say "sentimental value," then wipe off his hands and arms. He doesn't blink when I approach his face, so I do that too. They let in another batch, people inch by us, and one of them stink eyes me and says "Now you'll spread what he's got."
"Hope not, or what you've got either," I tell him. I take off my sweater and help the guy put it on, then we walk toward my car. I call my wife, and by way of hello she says "working late?"
"Yeah."
"Be safe, see you soon."
I open the car and let the guy in. "Wait here," I tell him, "when I'm done we'll go back to where I work. There's always an extra bed. But for now you must be hungry, wuddya want?"
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