Weblog entry:
- Ineffable
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The old man orders a
blueberry — no, a cranberry — I’m sorry, a cranberry-walnut muffin
, pointing with his twenty dollar bill to do so. The woman at the counter asks him if there’s anything else he’d like, and he’s surprised for a moment: caught off-guard, as though scared, unbalanced by the fact that the transaction isn’t already completed. Hurriedly scans the coffee board, gestures with his money again — points a long, crooked green finger at the house blends.I’d like a large Colombian.
Money is exchanged, the purchase collected, the man leaves hurriedly, the line moves forward. I smile at the woman behind the counter, and she smiles back. She wants to laugh, as do I, and the words we use to communicate that laughter are a kind of silent commerce. The line moves forward.
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- 25th day of September 2003.
- Filed under Story, Memory.
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