This city… Where I’m sitting at a little wooden table with equally little metal chairs…
It really isn’t that big.
The sidewalk houses cigarette butts. Tattered business cards. Sixty-year-old homeless men “just trying to get to McDonalds.”
All things discarded.
An overly loud Harley cranks beside those sharing this sidewalk with me. And everyone jumps.
Conversation halts for a moment. But only that. A moment. A hiccup in an otherwise clear evening.
The tattooed waitress who first asked me if I wanted to see a menu just walked around the corner. And I wonder if anyone will be taking her place.
It’s just that kind of city. It’s just that kind of place.
And as the lights change from green to red, I am reminded… It really isn’t that big at all.
