Out, Like A Telegraph To Your Soul

I.
Sometimes I wish things were different. I wish when my key turned in the lock I'd find my companion simmering something fragrant and pouring me a glass of pinot grigio. It would be sweet to fall asleep together and wake up together and tell each other everything all day. In the interest of full disclosure: I believe in full disclosure. Also: despite my unbelievable hotness, which is causing you to tan as you read this, I suspect most people who worship my aforementioned unbelievable hotness can't imagine growing old warming their hands by it. So it goes.

II.
I recognize my shortcomings as a witness in theory, which is why I call Anya to check. I tell her I either did or did not witness a merchant in town practicing racial discrimination with his customers, all the while talking and laughing with me in a way that was so distracting I don't know what was actually happening. Anya says, "So they made you part of the club and used the work they were doing for you to insult an Asian family and get rid of Black customers?" I...don't know. I am still adding up what I saw and heard. I think I might have seen that. This introduces a new concept, since I am beige but not white. This means I am passing. This means the merchant thought I approved. If I were wrong and I said this about that merchant, I would be saying something unforgivable. This means I have to find a way to test out what I think. If I were right, I was blind to events as they were unfolding, and that scares me.

III.
His voice stops me the third time I hear it. "Excuse me! Excuse me!" He is a man sitting in a high-end SUV with his son. "Do you know where there's a Rite Aid?" Drug stores, like grocery stores, change corporate hands so often a person can't assume anything is where he last saw it. For a second, I'm confused and look up. Then I point directly across the street, "Like that one?"

IV.
My bicycle is on the road. Riding it, I am overjoyed. As a teenager, I rode up and down the hill roads of the home town at breakneck speeds and mostly without hands. On a bicycle, I was free and I am free. I am free.