On the bus, I sat next to a smelly man. He slumped down in the seat beside me and spread his legs wide. The woman across the aisle flashed me a knowing smirk. I considered moving, but stayed put.
At 4th and Pike, two men scrubbed the cement sidewalk with power washers. They didn't stop when I walked by.
When I paid for a small coffee with exact change, the woman behind the counter feigned napping because I took too long to extract three pennies from my purse. I laughed nervously and put a one dollar bill in her tip jar.
The man I see every morning on the corner of 5th and Pike who sells "Real Change," always smiles and says "Good morning." Today there was a woman in his spot.
I ran to cross a street before the light changed.
The sky was dark blue. White lights still strung in trees. A sick man howled at buses in the square, his voice booming nonsense over the traffic. In the same spot the day before, a homeless woman ripped out the garbage liner and dumped its contents on the ground, edging the trash around with her foot. White liquid seeped into the sidewalk cracks. Then she turned and moved to the next can.
There were two ambulances at 1st and Pike.
A poster that advertises the Scooba -- a robot that mops -- hangs in the Sharper Image window. In the Adidas window, a basketball player is dressed as a gladiator, his mouth frozen in a throaty rebel yell. Headless mannequins pose fashionably in the Banana Republic windows. They wear smart fitted blazers and dark wash jeans. Some clutch leather handbags.
I change tenses because I don't think you'll notice.
Thank you for not noticing.
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