Little things

I get so expansive and caught up in little things - rituals and twitches and quirks of people I don't know, people I will never see again.

The Max is a great place to find these - there was a loud lady there, a talker, who relished hitting herself on the forehead, duh, and crossing her eyes. The eye crossing was especially strong - she did it three times on the train, to show how stupid she was, crossed eyes, tongue peeking out the corner of her mouth, old lady makeup and wispy hair.

The pug dog at the window where you could see that he had been there before, probably every day, his little lookout post that was smudged with his hot breath and wet nose.

A girl at work that has a white eraser that she methodically and habitually shreds between a thumb and forefinger - she quit smoking and this is what has taken its place.