rite-aid.
the guy behind us in line is drunk. he keeps telling us about the under-21 night at the local bar that’s going on tonight, and he keeps trying to pick stuff off of julia’s shirt. we evade him eventually, by going outside, and then all of a sudden he comes running out the door.
as he goes tearing down the stairs and out across the parking lot, a man nearby shouts for him to stop— and then there is confusion because we are wondering if he is going to be caught shoplifting, or what— and then the running man trips and falls headfirst on the sidewalk.
i watch him stand up and shake himself off, and i watch the other man fall into step next to him, and we, dissappointed, turn away. we were hoping for a confrontation. but it makes me sad to think that tomorrow morning he will wake up with a torn up face and maybe not understand what happened.
