9/9/24
The sun warmed my back like an oven. Perspiration dripped out of my armpits slowly like a leaky faucet. I squinted at my laptop screen, unable to see anything through the sun’s glare.
When the sweat drip’s trajectory reached my ribcage, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was moving to the shade; so much for my self care date at the coffee shop in the sunshine.
As I stood up, an old lady appeared beside me. She was wearing a knitted skirt of tabby, gray, black, white, blue, and salmon colored cats. Her oversized glasses had a bug-eyed effect reminiscent of Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys. Her shoulders curled forward from decades of living life the only direction time moves.
“May I take this chair?” She asked, smiling.
“I’m about to move to the shade! So you can have the whole table if you want.” I smiled warmly back; her demeanor put me at ease.
“I just love the sun,” she said as she watched me pile my laptop and notebooks into my bag. “I told my doctor, I may die from skin cancer, but I’ll die happy!”
“Well, enjoy!” I said.
Sometimes the connection between the brain and the mouth becomes disjointed, and in the more unfortunate situations it’s the brain that lags behind. I’d meant enjoy the sun, not the impending doom of skin cancer.
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