man, that guy with the tattoo scribblings on his forehead has been in the bathroom for a long time.
i decided to not worry about it too much and fiddled with which brand of cigarette i would try next. new to smoking, the idea of brand loyalty had not yet manifested itself. it was out of sheer boredom that i was getting into such a foul habit, and the rack of a hundred options hanging above my head eight hours a day helped it along quite well. i thought about newports but it was raining and the idea of my lungs burning that cold burn was a real turn-off. they seemed much more of a summer cigarette, the menthols. i went for marlboro reds and watched men fill up in their holiday best. the women and kids sat warm in the cars with casserole dishes on their laps, off to family.
half into my third, tattoo face came back in and put the bathroom key on the counter. he caught me off-guard with a genuine “happy thanksgiving.”
"yeah, you too." the fact that this guy even knew it was thanksgiving, let alone wishing it to be a happy one put a little bit of shine on my otherwise dull afternoon.
the next day i was cleaning the bathroom at work and saw the spoon on the floor, bent up and burnt. and i thought turkey made you nod off. i threw the spoon in the trash, lit the last of the marlboros, and got to work on the sink.