Coffee: Peach Black Tea, Unknown brand; I didn’t have time to make coffee this morning so I grabbed the first thing with caffeine; this is old tea, a gift of six pouches in a ziplock bag; I’d had most of them at the time but a few were left; it was mellow and sweet; it reminded me of the person who gave it to me; she had eager hands, the kind that were always a little stiff, ready to start the next project.
It was the sort of day where the wind bends in to sniff you. Not quite winter, not quite spring, not quite anything other than ‘not-summer.’ The clouds had stirred themselves up to a tizzy. It didn’t rain, but it often looked like it might.
I took a late lunch at a Subway. It was one of those places you find squirreled in the corner of a Wal-Mart. The guy at the counter was already helping someone, so I stood around watching the people at the counters, the dead-bored greeters, the hustle and bustle of the store. Blue and white are great colors for the big suck of a department store. Cold and desolate, a Canadian tundra.
When it was my turn, I made small talk with the Subway chef. He made me a good sub. We talked about the warm weather and banking and after I paid I shook his hand. His wife was behind the register doing taxes.
Never underestimate the power of a cloudy day. With no sun to distract you, it’s easier to notice the details.
Novel Count: 18,430
Currently Reading: Killing Commendatore, Haruki Murakami
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I remember staying to look at it for a long time, as one would linger within reach of a consoling whisper. The sky was pearly grey. It was one of those overcast days so rare in the tropics, in which memories crowd upon one, memories of other shores, of other faces.Joseph Conrad, Lord Jim