People I'm Next To

I'm next to this gentleman. He has a suit on, it's well fitted, showcasing a stocky, but not overweight form. His jacket is a grey herringbone, and his pants are charcoal that matches some of the detailing on the jacket. He has on a lavender shirt, and a pink and purple tie. The tie is undone. His hair has long since abandoned him, but he carries the baldness well. I'd place him anywhere between the late 50s and late 60s. Aside from being particularly fashionable, he would not have stood out to me, if it weren't for the rain. It's raining. It's one of those consistent sorts of downpours. I feel like it's pacing itself. This isn't a drizzle that might blow over, or a storm that will wear itself out in a burst, but a solid few hours’ worths of rain. This rain is here and isn't concerned with being anywhere else in a hurry. Our gentleman is loading things into his car from a store with the aid of a few underlings in raincoats. His helpers scurry ba

I'm next to this guy. He is wearing a heathered maroon button down, and grey jeans. He has on these oxford shoes that have seen better days, and bright blue socks that peek out when he crosses his legs. He is sitting at a table in this coffee shop with an unwieldy looking laptop in front of him. While I have, on several occasions, tried to covertly glance at his screen, I can't quite figure out what he is doing. Aside from endangering us all. In some strange quirk of architecture the plug nearest Grey Jeans Guy is located some six feet up the wall. Rather than run his laptop plug directly up the wall, Grey Jeans Guy has, in some misguided attempt at politeness, plugged a power strip with a 3 foot cord into the plug, and then plugged in his own laptop. This results in a pendulum of electric danger lightly swaying above a strangely flammable business. I am hypnotized, not only by the back and forth motion of the strip, but also the tiny blue sparks that occasionally surge into