I'm walking to work behind a young white couple, she with sleek blond hair and cloddish boots, he in hipsterish black, skinny legs in skinny black jeans.
He walks a little closer to her, lifting one big hand to lightly skim her ass, feeling her muscles move her legs forward and back, her hips side to side.
They walk this way for a block and a half, and then she looks left, right, her hair twitching from shoulder to shoulder, and reaches back to brush his hand away.
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I love catching little slices of life like these. One that comes to mind right now is the time I saw a very old man (I would guess somewhere between 70 and 80) walk out to his mailbox, which he opened and found to be empty. He paused a moment, looked at his watch, then checked the mailbox again. Yep, still empty.
For some reason, Kurt, I was sure I'd responded to your comment. The man by his mailbox has kept me company for all these months - and I'm surprised to see I never said so.
So now I'm saying so. Thanks.
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