3WW (Ordinary, Folly, Hostile): Nothing Out of the Ordinary

An ordinary day. That’s how it started. The nails-on-chalkboard voice of the bitchy radio announcer insulting people to hide her insecurities. I hate waking up to her, but I can’t wake up to anything else.

Midday on an ordinary day. I ask for ham and cheese with lettuce and mustard. The guy hands me a bologna and cheese with tomato and mayo. Really? I give him a hostile glance and toss the sandwich at him. A whitish tomato lands on him; it looks like a brooch my grandmother would wear.

Going home on an ordinary day. I catch the bus. Ah, the stink of bad breath. I have a particularly funky specimen sit next to me. Long beard and overcoat on a day too hot for both. He pulls out a Fodor travel guide about Alaska. I make the mistake of looking over at the book. He takes the queue I haven’t given him. ‘I’m reading about Seward’s Folly. You know what that is?’

I answer, ‘I don’t really care.’ I really don’t.

Falling asleep on an ordinary day. Empty beer cans on the floor. Sweat on my brow. The windows cracked and covered with makeshift curtains. The sun guard in the windshield. Hopefully, the cops won’t ask any questions tonight. I don’t know if I have enough juice in my battery to move.