I’m back. We had some technical difficulties, so I put my computer away. People have been doing a lot, but people will keep doing a lot, so it’s all right.
Anyways, it’s kind of like when I saw that guy I saw a few weeks ago. I was running an important work-related errand. It was about 1:12 in the afternoon. He was walking down the street drinking a strawberry milkshake from McDonald’s.
He could have been the skinny guy who buys milkshakes when he’s thirsty and makes butter sandwiches at home because he can never keep up with fresh ingredients. Or, he could have been the previously-fat guy who allows himself one strawberry fast-food milkshake on every other third Tuesday of the month. But he wasn’t either of those people.
He was more like the guy who passed me on the street one night a week before; I was walking home from yoga, deep in thought, with my water bottle dangling from my mouth. He passed by me and smiled. We shared a moment, and I thought I was in love.
The guy drinking the milkshake had something important coming up at three o’clock. He was prepared, but there was a detail he couldn’t control. The detail had the power to ruin everything. It couldn’t be his fault, but it would be. Everyone was screaming, and he thought about thinking about failure.
He walked away and saw a boy with his grandmother. The grandmother was telling the boy he could have whatever he wanted for lunch. The city was theirs. The boy said he just wanted a milkshake. He loved them and his mom doesn’t really let him drink them all the time, which he thinks is weird because they are made of milk.
The guy didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, and the next thing he knew he was passing me on the sidewalk, smiling with his straw in his mouth, drinking a strawberry milkshake.
By the way: I thought I had broken the internet, but, as it turns out, it wasn’t my fault at all.