The weather is too warm for early February. I’m convinced it’s making me edgy, agitated.
After enduring a run to Costco on Saturday afternoon, I saw her standing at the bus stop, corner of Harrison and 32nd Street. I waited at the light. She pulled the plastic string that sealed the top of her cigarette pack and threw it on the ground. She removed the top sheath and released it. She opened the lid and plucked off the foil, and let the bits fall from her fingers. The light changed, I turned up 32nd and passed up the opportunity to stop, to speak to her. Instead, I finished my turn and drove up the street. I didn’t see her remove a cigarette or watch her light it. I didn’t look in my mirror to see the bits of plastic and paper blow across the street and land in the gutter.
Four blocks later, I opened the garage and parked the car. I unloaded groceries. I unpacked the pizza, carefully putting the plastic wrapping in the garbage and stacking the box in the recycling pile. I cut the shrink-wrapped plastic holding together three orange juice bottles. Unsure about what to do with this material, I threw it away. I pulled off the packaging on the bananas and recycled that. As I carried the pile to the blue recycle bin outside I noticed a Doritos bag drift into the street.