Twenty Nine

Posted on July 19, 2007

1


I watched him walk from the cigarette shop, talking on the phone – to someone close, I imagine. His gait wasn’t particularly hurried.

He’d respectfully kept his cigarette unlit.

I was telling somebody close about the daal-fry I’d had for lunch.

I waved at him.
He smiled, waved back.

I have no clue who he was.

Posted in: 55, Prose