Outside the gym, a his and her, six feet apart.
Rust City is spiking but open for business.
A teenaged girl explains to her Dad that the mask doesn't really do anything to restrict his oxygen intake.
Kracker Jack's - the nightclub full of surprises - will remain closed for another two weeks.
I devour a Greek slice with wonderful crust, four garlic chicken wings, and two Great Lakes IPAs.
Purchase a Frostie root beer for the connoisseur in the family on the way out.
Couples in some stage of recovery on the street waiting for something.
The doors of an office building burst open, women stream through smiling at the end of their work day.
Listening to the bells chime waiting at a stop light behind an asphalt truck.
The smell and the sound are incongruous.
All the benches in the park are empty.
The grass is green, freshly mowed, and it smells much better than the truck.
Three men sit alone in adjacent doorways staring at their phones waiting for the meeting to convene.
Life goes on here.
Entropy flips me off as I drive through.
No comments:
Post a Comment