Crunch, slurp, chew, crunch. I couldn’t help but stare at this every-day-Joe-bloke having a passionate affair with cantaloupe slices.
"How many damn slices does he have hiding in that sandwich sized ziploc bag?" I thought to myself as he grabbed yet another slice of the succulent fruit.
Mr. Cantaloupe continued to pace the subway stop while inhaling fruit. I looked down at my feet wondering what liquid had stained the cement floor inches away from shoe. In the distance you could see the Robert F. Kennedy bridge lit up. A group of boisterous Asian friends walked up and started discussing how one of them was basically white. Directly infront of me was a building that was probably both business and residential; the plain colored brick building had a huge Starbucks billboard on it that seemed so close I could touch it. I kept looking at my rolling-suitcase feeling paranoid of my obvious tourism.
Arrival | Alex Noriega
In a week, my pops and I will be camping here.