Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
He told his friends, “With all the recent smoke, I’ve added some things to my morning routine. Now I spray each nostril with saline spray, and then put eye drops in. I can’t help myself from thinking when I do, is this the smoke, or getting old, or functions and tissue breaking down?”
His friends replied in unison, “Yes.”
Pleasant midday walk. 74 F, sunshine and a delicate breeze. No smoke smells, just cut grass and cooking foods. A doe and her fawns eat and digest in a yard across from an elementary school. Feels comfortable striding through the neighborhood. Feels normal, stress free.
Stopped by Starbucks yesterday to meet a friend. They had a big display up celebrating twenty years of the pumpkin spice flavor. I remembered the first time I ever had one. My wife and I lived in Half Moon Bay, California. Relatives from the eastern US were visiting. An oddly chilly, damp day, we went to the Tech Museum in San Jose. Not far away was a Starbucks. We walked to it to get a hot coffee drink and on a whim, several of us had pumpkin spice lattes. The flavor surprised and impressed me.
But they or I changed in the intervening time. I had a sampler they’d put up; after a sip, the tastebuds said, “Oh, god, no.” I tossed it.
So the coffee shop had food made in error, a type of breakfast sandwich on an English muffin. A barrista walked around the business, inquiring of customers if they would like the free food. Explaining what it was, he said, “It’s not piping hot, but it’s still warm,” in a mildly apologetic tone.
That made me smile.
Most of us view ourselves as younger than we are. Just a trick of psychology. I can see, then, how disturbing using a cane or walker because you’re now elderly and need it can severely disrupt your self-image.
Let me in let me in let me in let me in!
This is not how the day should begin!
I shouldn’t be out there while you’re within.
And closing the door on me is a mighty sin.
How do I know that you’re well?
What would I do if you fell?
I’ve said it before, must I say it again?
Let me in let me in let me in let me in!
He’s planning a trip and reviewing hotels.
One rated a prospective place “10/10 – Excellent”. But their comments made him wonder:
“The room was good and bed was super comfortable however there were areas needing a little updating . Looked like there had been a roof leak in the bathroom over the shower area and the exhaust fan in the bathroom sounded like it was dying. Also the lighting in the bathroom was not very bright . The breakfast in the morning was good. Overall I’d say it was ok.”
Head shake. ‘Okay’ is far away from ‘Excellent’ is his mind.
Burping blue smoke and violent noise, a pickup truck pulled into the line of stopped traffic.
Tan with brown accent panels and chrome wheels, the pickup truck was elderly, maybe an eighties vintage, dated as far as motor vehicles go. The right-side door – that’s where the passenger is in America – was smashed in. Broad black tape all around the door held the door shut against the body.
It looked to me like he’d been run into. I could see how another vehicle had slammed head on into the pickup truck’s side. Imagined scenarios easily rose. Maybe he ran a stop sign or red light. Then again, maybe the other vehicle ran the traffic order to stop and hit him, who was innocently motoring along.
Or, it could be the result of passion. He and his wife – or his girlfriend, boyfriend, cousin, sister, brother – argued. He fired up his truck to leave. As he was slewing the vehicle around, dust flying, the other person leaped into their vehicle and drove it into his truck, trying to stop him.
Perhaps it wasn’t passion, but a broken drug deal, or an attempted theft. Television tales and real-life reports fertilized possibilities.
Maybe, though, the driver wasn’t involved at all. Perhaps it wasn’t his truck; he was just borrowing it to move some junk.
The maybes are endless, and I’ll probably never know.
Michael Seidel, writer 