I shouldn’t have worn a hat. You never can trust the weather here, though. I am listening to Prince.
A Babushka eyes my hat suspiciously as she rolls by. She is wearing a raspberry beret; the kind you’d find at a second hand store.
Life is weird, I think.
Up ahead, a man is trying to find the sidewalk. He swoops left, then right. He is drooling. A woman in yoga pants dodges him. It throws him off. He falls onto a knee-high metal fence, gut-first. He lays there, like a rag-doll.
I look at him and a firework of thoughts goes through my mind.
I watch one where I walk over, I help the man to his feet. He socks me on the jaw. In another, he stabs me, another, we hug and I buy him lunch. In another I stand there like a fool, holding him. In another, he dies. In one, I see myself giving him money.
He rolls off the fence and sits on the curb. He groans as I pass. He looks down at his hands. I can smell him in the sunshine.
Up ahead, three preteen girls push a carriage. One is holding a small dog.
I wonder what is in the carriage.