See the old man.
White hair. Band-Aids covering lesions on forearms. Pre-cancerous, probably. JVC headphones. Watching cello lessons on YouTube from laptop. Scribbling notes.
I’ve three work emails open. Cold coffee. Exhausted.
Look left—pink-haired woman glances at me. Away. Then back at me.
Smile.
Mohawk man—Pink’s beau?—follows her glance. Registers me. Glares.
You’re the cog of a disastrous quadrangle, I think.
Mohawk reads my mind, seemingly. Stands.
Haven’t stopped smiling. Smittenness contagious.
Look right—old man remains preoccupied. Scribbling furiously. Lifelong student.
Mohawk grabs my shoulder with sizable paw. Pink gasps.
Instant adrenaline.
Jiu-jitsu training > reason.
White hair. Band-Aids covering lesions on forearms. Pre-cancerous, probably. JVC headphones. Watching cello lessons on YouTube from laptop. Scribbling notes.
I’ve three work emails open. Cold coffee. Exhausted.
Look left—pink-haired woman glances at me. Away. Then back at me.
Smile.
Mohawk man—Pink’s beau?—follows her glance. Registers me. Glares.
You’re the cog of a disastrous quadrangle, I think.
Mohawk reads my mind, seemingly. Stands.
Haven’t stopped smiling. Smittenness contagious.
Look right—old man remains preoccupied. Scribbling furiously. Lifelong student.
Mohawk grabs my shoulder with sizable paw. Pink gasps.
Instant adrenaline.
Jiu-jitsu training > reason.
