Minor Hubris

On the way back from picking up our food for dinner, I remember that my roommate John gave me two dollars to buy him a diet coke. I’m mentally preparing myself to go to the bodega across the street, which means waiting for the light, walking past our front door, finding the cokes in the back of the shop, during which time our fries may be getting soggy in the bag, and truly, nobody like soggy fries.

I pass a deli I’d forgotten about on the same side of the street as the one I’m walking on, and without thinking, I turn in, grab a coke for my friend, pay the man, and resume my return trip all in about thirty seconds. 

I realize I’m feeling inordinately proud of myself for my quick thinking and my ability to improvise in the moment, and I feel a little embarrassed for my overinflated ego, but since nobody’s listening in, I decide to forgive myself for my momentary lapse into the sin of pride.