People I'm Next To

I'm next to this girl. She has a cute Sherpa hat on, a blue fluffy coat, a red skirt, darker green tights and yellow boots. Its all very primary. She is 5 foot 6, and weighs 148 pounds, I know this to be true, for reasons which will become apparent later. We are in a coffee shop and more specifically she is in a corner, facing the wall. She is on the phone with a doctor and it appears this call is urgent, because even though she doesn't want to be on it. She keeps trying to whisper, but then having to repeat herself in a louder voice. So she keeps saying these quiet unintelligible sentences, followed by a louder clear sentences, they are like reverse echoes. She is whispering, because this conversation has something to do with her lady parts. At first she is answering very basic questions, height, weight, eating habits. She is allergic to mango, it gives her a rash. She takes a daily multi-vitamin, and exercises 2 times a week. Then it gets more specific, and presumably

I'm next to Jeremy. Today, Jeremy is wearing a smart collared shirt with black and blue stripes on a white background, or maybe black and white stripes on a blue background or maybe blue and white stripes on a black background, and black pants, which are pretty much just black pants. His head is shaved, which oddly disguises the fact that his head can't grow hair. He is bald on purpose, and by accident. I know he is Jeremy because he ran into a friend, who said, "Hey Jeremy." I also know he is one of those modern day future techno wizard people who live in coffee shops, like me. He has an I-pad which is in a special stand, and he is browsing the internet with casual touches, swimming through data streams without a care in the world. He is looking at a cooking web page, some chicken dish, I'm not close enough for more details about the ingredients, when his phone signals him. I'm not sure how it signals him as I don't hear it, it could have psychica

I'm next to this man. He has a silver Ted Danson haircut, and a thicker Ted Danson face. He is dressed like a woman casually lounging in her house on a rainy day in a mid nineties romantic comedy. By this I mean, tight black jeans and a loose turtle neck sweater that goes down to his knees with a design like brown static. We are in line at a Chinese place. He cut me in that line. Wait. I take that back, he actually interrupted me ordering. I was at the counter saying, "Umm I'd like-" Then this guy steps in front of me. "I'll have a spring roll." The mother fucker. He actually hyphenated my sentence with his immediate need for a cruelty free eggroll. There is a simple etiquette to waiting in a line. Wait in line. Thats it, thats all you have to do. It is easy. Ignoring such obvious niceties, he spits out his order and without even waiting for the cashier to take the order he walks and sits down at a booth. The cashier rolls his eyes and th

I'm next to this woman. She is in her late twenties, mildly overweight, and has on a black sweater and jeans. She has a frazzled, angry look about her, like someone in the middle of a crisis. This makes sense as she is in the middle of a divorce. She is also in the middle of a conversation about her divorce. She is also, inconveniently, in the middle of a coffee shop. Everyone in said coffee shop can hear her, as she is practically shouting into her phone. Her voice is this shrill wild thing, it has the tone I imagine inquisitors used when ranting about heretics, right before they burned off the soles of someones feet. It makes me feel like I am being yelled at, and his isn't just me feeling this, the other patrons are cringing in something like fear whenever her voice crashes in furious crescendo of anger about who gets the broiler. In fact most of her complaints are about appliances, sprinkled with milder concerns about less important stuff, you know like her kids. &

I'm next to this sound effect. It, presumably he, has on red converse chucks, which are startlingly similar to my own shoes, white socks and blue jeans. This is all I can see because he is in the stall next to me. He is puking, and I can hear it. It is extremely loud. I am timidly sitting down in a public bathroom. Normally I stay away from being in this situation, not out of a fear of germs, but rather some strange near crippling social phobia of what people might think about the fact that I have to move my bowels from time to time. Tonight however my fear of moving my bowels in my pants has trumped that other fear, and so here I am, pooping in public. The person next to me is operating under similar biological urgency, but with a different ejection method. I hear a pretty stereotypical puke noise, followed by a pretty stereotypical splash noise. This repeats every few seconds for a minute. I lose count of the cycles, as I sit paralyzed with the bizarre narcissistic fear t

I'm next to this woman. She has loose dark brown v-neck t-shirt on. There are lots of single letter designations in shirts, or at least more than other clothes. Anyway, its jersey I think from the way it lays. It is plain. She has on jeans, faded, but in one of the 8 different patterns of prefaded, and very tight so I think they are new. She has warm looking brown boots with buckles by the ankle. I like those. She has seen a movie recently, she wasn't impressed. She has explained why, I'm not impressed. First off, she points out, it was a strange movie. I can tell from the way she says 'strange' that this is going to be a poor review. The word kind of catches as she is halfway through trying to spit it out, like it suddenly had to start going uphill, it becomes a ten letter word, "Strannggge." She goes on to explain that it was complicated, and that this is the main problem. "I would rather not have to think about it, I mean I'm going

I'm next to this man and woman. Both are wearing dark, comfortable looking cloths. She has on black tights and a large black sweat shirt. He has on dark grey sweat pants and a black fleece zip up turtle neck. We three are in a coffee shop. I am at a table maybe 5 feet away from them and they are on a couch, and each other. There are a lot other folks here too, watching too. All of us are an audience, these two are the show. They are not currently having sex, but I'd be only mildly surprised if they started. They are exhibiting a wild amount of public affection. They aren't just doing the whole making out, necking, hands in fun places, thing. I mean they are, but its not like seeing a drunk couple go at it in a dimly lit bar, all hormones and impaired judgement. There you see a desperation, two people who absolutely have to be doing what they are doing;'Excuse me miss but my hand has to be on your breast right now despite our public situation, its urgent',