Ennui

It wasn't as though he was looking at anything in particular, sitting there on the bench in the sun. On his head was the old fedora he had picked up at the Goodwill many years ago when wearing hats was still in fashion. There was a hole in the crown just above the headband.

Several pigeons strutted around his feet, pecking at the crumbs that had fallen from his pastrami-and-rye sandwich. It was four-fifteen of a winter afternoon, and there were few people out on the street.

At the bank across the street, a young man was hunched over by the ATM, perhaps wondering how come his bank card was not working. He wore an orange sweater and hiking boots.

So that's how it goes, the old man thought, reaching in his jacket pocket for another Lifesaver.




(to be continued)