2003-03-06 - 2:28 p.m.
The short Auatralian man put his purchases down on the counter. He was older, forties, but he had that weathered air about him. I imagined he was a professor. That he backpacked through Europe. That he got the scar near his eye fomr a sword fight in Italy.
His cat probably scratched him.
"It's getting cold out there.", He motioned outdoors with his tiny hands, his accent weaving in and out of his words.
"Colder? I mean, it's more cold than before?"
"Well", he breathed in heavily,"it's been pretty cold the whole time."
"But, I mean it's colder? Because I can't handle colder."
We stared at one another, our trite conversation suddenly becoming a game of cold upping. Who's winnning, we both wondered.
I cleared my throat. "I can't wait till spring." I smiled. Ceasefire.
"Yes, as the beautiful flowers gently push through the earth, their heads tilting demurely towards the sunshine."
He stared out the window.
Did he really just say that?
"Sure", I replied, "Until a freak snowstorm inevitably hits, crushing the flowers, killing them in the cold earth."
Silence.
He tugs his bag from the counter shaking his head sadly.
"You Americans are all so fucking pessimistic."
I watched his retreating back, thinking it wasn't such a bad thing.
"Thank you, sir!"
~j
+Ted Leo+
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