My life used to make sense. Now I just walk the streets at night, searching for what I lost.
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You tell yourself that you don’t know this person. You tell yourself that he’s a celebrity. That it doesn’t matter. Sure, you’re sad for the people they left behind and hope they are doing okay. You heard the news, the news cycle moves on, and you get on with your day.
I just couldn’t let go of this.
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A few weeks ago, I was sitting in a cafe having a meeting. We were sitting by the front window and I glanced outside during a pause in the conversation. Out on the sidewalk, a man with a long flowing ponytail walked by, and stopped on the other side of the glass. He put his hand to his brow and leaned towards the window to see inside. Our eyes locked for a moment, and he went on his way.
I knew the guy, but I didn’t know him.
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Last year I wrote a three-part story that made me question the world and my place in it. Since then, I’ve had three experiences that fit under this same category. So, this is sort of a sequel. These stories are all about rules: following the rules, breaking them and so on. To quickly refresh your memory, last year’s stories were about someone wearing the same unusual shirt as me, getting yelled at while skating at an outdoor rink and people misunderstanding the concept of emergency sirens. Now for this year’s very different stories.
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