There's a cloud hanging over me... And the rest of the city. It's a low cloud, like a big hand pushing down on all of us. It blocks out the sun and warmth. I need to break free of it's oppressive grip, but I'm the one who likes winter.
The smokers all huddle in the cold outside so many feet away from the door as prescribed by law. I'd like to go over there and stand around with them, but I don't feel welcome in their company. As if I was the one who wrote this law. I only voted for it. They look like prisoners out in the yard, dark silhouettes under the grey sky. How they must hate the non-smokers. And come to think of it, I don't think they were far enough away from the door.
A bell ringer squatted outside the grocery store in the snow yesterday. He was whistling a Christmas carol. My gosh, where does he find the will? I hurried past to get inside the warmth of the store. Bananas, $.48 lb. Or was it $1.48? I don't remember. I wonder if the green paper stuff on the table is supposed to make it look like a banana tree? I've never seen a banana tree. I think back to the Pines Road exit where I've seen the same homeless girl holding a cardboard sign twice. This time she had a white and brown puppy dog tied to a street sign. It was making her smile as it played in the snow. She's beautiful when she smiles.
There's a cop in a Crown Victoria parked outside just waiting for someone to go over 35 mph. He's always there. Every other day. I've seen him swoop down on people like a hawk on a field mouse. If he pulls me over I'm going to complain.