Its not pine-sol... Its not a pine tree...
To explain the stilted or high-falutin sound of this post, I must say I attempted to write the entire thing in e-prime, for the sake of taking up more time in my work day. I apologize in advance, and if you see any errors feel free to leave a comment saying "hey colin, you e-suck!"
so i'm taking my lunch break in the park in front of the flatiron building(i should know the name of the park, shouldn't i?), only 2 blocks away from my office. I spent the hour alternately squinting and relaxing my eyes as clouds shifted past the too-bright sun. With my hour almost done, I start heading back towards my office building. The road in question, 25th street, sort of dead-ends at the park and starts back on the other side, effectively destroying any usefulness the street might have in this area. As such, the road gets less traffic than the roads on either side of it (well ok, 24th deadends at the park in the same fashion).
As I work on 25th street, I walk it regularly, and found a vent on the side of a building there that stayed warm through the winter without smelling foul. An ideal spot for a cigarette break on snowy day, and oft did I use the spot for just that purpose. On my return trip today I came accross this scene:
A woman whose family genetics, not to put to fine a point on it, paid her ample arrears, and showing off said payment in a peculiar fashion. Her back faced me, legs spread eagled accross the sidewalk, leaning far over to rest one outstretched arm against the side of the building. Her body twisted so she could look at me coming towards her and i could see a cigarette in her mouth, which she removed to exhale a thin cloud of smoke. She did not look at me with a come-hither stare so much as a you-have-entered-my-domain-now-scram-before-i-eat-you stare. Then she turned away. Not all that strange, honestly, but then I saw the man resting in crook between her arm and the wall, shock white hair, thick bushy mustache, standing close enough to assert an intimate relationship. He stared me in the eye. he seemed to beg me question the nature of their relationship.
they stood too close for for familal ties...or did they?
Scandalized, I walked by trying not to stare at them. Once I took my eyes off of them for a second I decided to call these thoughts paranoia, taking a scenario which admittedly looked suspcious and adding my own warped imaginings. What pedofile could actually take their child/lover out on the streets for all to see?
Coming closer, finally, I caught a scent in the air that allayed all of my worries. The scent belonged to that lovely illustrious woman named Mary Jane, and exlained all that seemed strange about the situation…except perhaps for how this couple met up…
Laughing now I walked back to the office, sure of 2 things. I gave my imagination far too much credit sometimes and if you must get high in a public place, do it in the open where anybody could walk by. Who would think to look for you there?
(fin)
so i'm taking my lunch break in the park in front of the flatiron building(i should know the name of the park, shouldn't i?), only 2 blocks away from my office. I spent the hour alternately squinting and relaxing my eyes as clouds shifted past the too-bright sun. With my hour almost done, I start heading back towards my office building. The road in question, 25th street, sort of dead-ends at the park and starts back on the other side, effectively destroying any usefulness the street might have in this area. As such, the road gets less traffic than the roads on either side of it (well ok, 24th deadends at the park in the same fashion).
As I work on 25th street, I walk it regularly, and found a vent on the side of a building there that stayed warm through the winter without smelling foul. An ideal spot for a cigarette break on snowy day, and oft did I use the spot for just that purpose. On my return trip today I came accross this scene:
A woman whose family genetics, not to put to fine a point on it, paid her ample arrears, and showing off said payment in a peculiar fashion. Her back faced me, legs spread eagled accross the sidewalk, leaning far over to rest one outstretched arm against the side of the building. Her body twisted so she could look at me coming towards her and i could see a cigarette in her mouth, which she removed to exhale a thin cloud of smoke. She did not look at me with a come-hither stare so much as a you-have-entered-my-domain-now-scram-before-i-eat-you stare. Then she turned away. Not all that strange, honestly, but then I saw the man resting in crook between her arm and the wall, shock white hair, thick bushy mustache, standing close enough to assert an intimate relationship. He stared me in the eye. he seemed to beg me question the nature of their relationship.
they stood too close for for familal ties...or did they?
Scandalized, I walked by trying not to stare at them. Once I took my eyes off of them for a second I decided to call these thoughts paranoia, taking a scenario which admittedly looked suspcious and adding my own warped imaginings. What pedofile could actually take their child/lover out on the streets for all to see?
Coming closer, finally, I caught a scent in the air that allayed all of my worries. The scent belonged to that lovely illustrious woman named Mary Jane, and exlained all that seemed strange about the situation…except perhaps for how this couple met up…
Laughing now I walked back to the office, sure of 2 things. I gave my imagination far too much credit sometimes and if you must get high in a public place, do it in the open where anybody could walk by. Who would think to look for you there?
(fin)