I don’t think the sky could figure out what shade it wanted to wear today. It seems hesitantly content playing host to grey clouds, backlit by a fluorescent sun I can’t see, reminding me of the vacant glow of a slide projector lacking an image to beam. I might be lulled into numb thoughtlessness if I stared up at it for too long, if not for the jolt of my coffee, if it weren’t for the trickle and flow of those wandering past the windows of the Starbucks here, on their way to and from a supermarket nearby. I look at everyone and briefly wonder what their lives might be like. It’s nothing special, not an original mental query, but it is what it is, and that’s to say it’s better than mental vacancy.
What do you know? The sky changes: a slide is loaded onto the projector, bits up blue liven up the overhead, a red Radio Flyer wagon full of kids is wheeled past the window, the kids point at a mesh kit bag full of twitchy Chihuahua puppies — happily convulsing and wagging their tails at the new source of attention.
My cup’s empty, the kids have gone, a shopkeeper tends to an empty store. I can feel the energy throbbing of what’s to come next, the suspense of what slide is next in the queue of this middle-aged Monday.