On The Phone

I’m walking on 4th, on my way to work. I’m not actually going to work, but delivering fruit. That’s one of my jobs. Make sure the fruit is stocked for the week. And I take it verrrry seriously.

A ways down the street, I hear a man talking loudly. I can’t tell who it is at first, there’s three people walking towards me. As I get closer to the bar, I can tell who it is. Youngish kid, probably mid-20’s, somewhat of a hipster. He’s talking really loudly now, but he’s not walking next to anyone. Maybe he’s on the phone?  Hands-free. Maybe he’s got some mental issues? He’s talking to himself.

He’s got a hoodie on, but now that I’m close, I can see a white cord from his ear, dangling down into his jacket. Ok. On the phone. But then he says,

I’ve got an appointment with a psychiatrist. Yeah, yeah. I NEED to get on some kind of medication.

I walk into the bar, throw the fruit in the fridge, and get my cash to reimburse for the fruit.  

-Clint Curtis

phone-call

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