Greetings

Beside the Lutheran church, there was a boarding house in the old style. Rooms for rent by the week, month, year. I assumed they ate scheduled meals and commiserated in the evenings. As I stood across the street, a man exited the building, shouting expletives. I continued on my walk. Moments later, the same man came speeding down the road, shouting through his open windows. A bad day. As the car receded into the distance, I imagined him getting into an accident, what with the lack of focus and anger coursing in his veins.

No. 055

Shoplifter

While inspecting a bundle of brussels sprouts, I heard a man raise his voice behind me. Whipping my head around, I saw the source: a man around my age, possibly younger, clutching at his backpack. The store security guard held onto the straps. An employee stood behind him.

“I told you, I don’t got shit in this backpack except the salad.” The security guard insisted he go through the backpack. The suspect repeated his phrase louder, so more people in the store could hear. Everyone now had their eyes on the altercation. Mine roamed to the pistol harnessed at the waist of the security guard.

The young man insisted there was nothing in his backpack, but tensions had grown too strong. To alleviate the situation, the security guard escorted him to an emergency exit. With permission, the suspect absconded with the salad. The emergency alarm kept ringing throughout the rest of the grocery store trip.

No. 053

Invoice

Upon receiving the invoice for the repair, Spencer nearly lost his appetite. It arrived on time in a damaged box, a rip running the length of the cardboard. The total cost came out to a quarter of his monthly income. Credit cards already maxed, there was little he could do.

On Fridays, different departments in the office catered meetings. When these finished, messages went out to the rest of the building, so that no scraps of food went to waste. It became a ritual for Spencer to wait for these messages, and to take the free food as a reward for his patience and frugality. When he most needed financial reprieve, no such messages came. The office, in fact, was sparsely populated. Stomach rumbling, he arrived at a last resort.

Outside the office stood a sandwich and salad spot, a common choice for his coworkers. He knew they placed their online and mobile orders on a double-shelf, letters affixed to aid in finding your name. He knew, too, that no employee of the restaurant checked for a receipt. Do anything confidently and you can get away with it.

His watch flagged an elevated heart rate as he exited the restaurant. Tearing open the brown paper bag, a leafy green salad greeted him. The disappointment wasn’t strong enough to mask the emptiness in his stomach.

No. 051