walnuts are a superfood. thank you mother.

I wasn't looking up and therefore had to mutter an insincere "oh, excuse me," and flutter my eyelashes at the disgruntled-looking old man, slightly overweight, who I had just cut off on my way to the salad bar. I was after spinach and chickpeas, but had been thinking about my endeavor to start jogging, and bam! old man, frown.

The rundown of what happened next is as follows: pick up little brown box, check; spinach, check; soy nuts, check; red cabbage, check; chickpeas, check; some mostly clear sort of dressing, check. (If you want to taste the best salad in the world, make it this way).

I said goodbye to the wine and the halogen lights and walked to my car. Who cares whether or not I paid for it. Boring - besides, the cashier was all but noteworthy. Walking to my car I saw the old man. There was a thought bubble hovering over his head. How odd, I thought. I went closer. He didn't notice me, but the thought bubble did. It changed shape for a second, and then an image appeared. A to-do list of sorts, but instead of being on lined paper, it was like a slideshow.

This man had an incredible agenda. Of course, he had to drive home. Then there was the cooking, the cleaning. Inevitably his wife would be late home from work (I mustn't leave out that his wife appeared in his thoughts to be a very attractive older psychologist), and he would have to greet all those damned people who were always so bloody early (bloody? who says bloody?) and keep the dogs from sniffing at the women's crotches.

Just as I was going to walk away the show changed. Slowed. Softened. No longer a to-do list. Closer to a memory.

He held the hand of a very attractive young psychologist. That was it.

The old man, who had never noticed me standing there, drove away. So did I.