There was a homeless man stood outside the shop this morning. He was stroking someone else's dog, which was tied to the post by the door. The Labrador had a sleek, glossy black coat. His was green, filthy and full of holes, it looked sick, scabbed, sore. He had a huge bushy beard, stained yellow around his mouth. The dog liked the smell of him, but people coming out of the shop started back when they saw him and sidestepped him, making every effort not to look like they were doing so. He looked up from the dog and saw me coming, then drew himself up by what was left of his lapels and gave me a big wide smile. "Hello!" I looked behind me, in case he was talking to someone else, and this made him laugh. He told me to have a lovely day.
I got a no. 15 from Nassau St. As I walked down the aisle, a man in the back seat bellowed at me. "Ah, hello!" I didn't look up. He sounded delighted to see me. I knew he meant me - I was the last to board the bus and the only one in the aisle. I had my headphones on. I pretended not to hear him and shuffled into a seat. "You're looking very well, anyway!" The woman sat beside me shifted slightly, afraid to make her sideways stare too obvious. She was looking at me, not at him. I could smell him from my seat two rows up, stale sweat and sour clothes. I didn't begrudge her the gawk, I'd have done the same. The curiosity is not the madman but the object of his shouty affections. He stopped talking then, maybe watched people getting on and off. That's what I did. He wasn't quiet. He beat an out of time tattoo on the floor with his feet, stomping to the beat of his own discomfort.
When I stood up to get off, he shouted again. Top of his lungs, which were filled with enthusiasm.
He told me to have a lovely day.
I got a no. 15 from Nassau St. As I walked down the aisle, a man in the back seat bellowed at me. "Ah, hello!" I didn't look up. He sounded delighted to see me. I knew he meant me - I was the last to board the bus and the only one in the aisle. I had my headphones on. I pretended not to hear him and shuffled into a seat. "You're looking very well, anyway!" The woman sat beside me shifted slightly, afraid to make her sideways stare too obvious. She was looking at me, not at him. I could smell him from my seat two rows up, stale sweat and sour clothes. I didn't begrudge her the gawk, I'd have done the same. The curiosity is not the madman but the object of his shouty affections. He stopped talking then, maybe watched people getting on and off. That's what I did. He wasn't quiet. He beat an out of time tattoo on the floor with his feet, stomping to the beat of his own discomfort.
When I stood up to get off, he shouted again. Top of his lungs, which were filled with enthusiasm.
He told me to have a lovely day.
