I'll Bet You Do

The composer from a show I'd been in years ago is standing on the corner with a mouthful of pizza, and he makes an awkward, muffled sound of greeting when he sees me walking by. His hands are full of the pizza, napkins, a binder of music is shoved under one arm, so instead of a handshake or a hug, I offer him an elbow to bump, which he gratefully accepts.

When he's finally swallowed, we exchange pleasantries, and I say, "Oh, I saw this show last night, and I said to Katie, 'This sounds like something Nate would have written.'"

"I wish," he says, before dashing off to rehearsal, and I resume my walk home from the train, while the breeze blows warm and soft past me to other destinations.

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One year ago: Grateful for What I Have

Two years ago: Fair Point

Three years ago: Picnic

Four years ago: Like Nobody Is Watching

Eight years ago: wedding stuff