I am so Sweaty: a walk
I lock my apartment at 12:15. I think about time in fifteen-minute intervals and I wanted an easy time to accurately complete my assignment, even if that meant rushing out the door and leaving my water bottle in my living room. I am already thirsty and can feel the sweat begin to collect in my armpits.
Walking up the driveway, I am greeted with the shrieks and giggles of a family exiting their Tesla minivan. I had no idea Elon catered to that audience, but at least he followed the general principle that all minivans must be blue. Looking to my left, I was grateful no one was sitting on the porch. I live next to an affordable housing unit dedicated to the chronically homeless. I’m not sure they recognize me when they see me in public, but they always ask me how I am doing before asking if I have any spare change. I wonder if any of my neighbors attended Michigan. What point of this triangle will I end up on?
I pull out my notebook and write that down. I put back my notebook, fighting the other junk I carry. My shoulders hurt, most likely from the book, extra notepad, pen, and sunglasses I keep with me at all times. I do not have water with me, though, so at least some of the stress is mitigated by my dry mouth.
The sky appears like it might quench my thirst soon, but I stop myself from pulling out my phone and checking the weather app. I have a noticeable level of sweat forming on my back, so maybe the mugginess is more of a reaction of my body to the atmosphere around me. My joints are the most reliable weather men and my knees did not ache when I got out of bed this morning. I trust there won’t be any rain.
Some grandparents standing hand in hand with their grandchild between them cut me off as I walked toward the barricades blocking traffic from entering the construction zone. Grandma had six large clips holding her hair off of her neck. The young boy had a squeaky voice. Grandpa walked exactly like my own when I was a child. I wonder if his knees ached this morning. At least I know arthritis can bind people together, even if it destroys the bonds between your bones. My knees begin to swell and I remember I forgot to take my medication this morning. I’ll do that when I get home.
I step on the side of the road as I pass the family. Even though I am, to my knowledge, the only person with nowhere to go I have the fastest pace of all the pedestrians on Liberty. Why am I in a rush? I should slow down. I try to bring myself back to observing. The only thing I can noticeably observe now is the growing chemical smell of my sunscreen and the drop of sweat dripping down my neck. Maybe I should look into a new sunscreen.
A finance bro walked past me as I finally passed the first bit of construction. He’s wearing a pink polo, gray slacks, and black aviators. He might be talking to someone on his AirPods, or he’s talking to himself. Either way, he is waving the coffee in his left hand around as he speaks. In his right hand lay the leash to his French Bulldog. He must be taking it for a walk during his lunch break. I knew it was his and not one of those dog walking services because every dog looks like their owner, either physically or in spirit, and those two could have been twins.
I check my watch. It’s been ten minutes.
Ann Arbor recently introduced free public restrooms scattered around the downtown area. I have never gone in one because the smell of port-a-potties makes me violently ill. Two friends laugh as one steps out and exclaims it’s the cleanest public restroom she has ever been in. I take note but also recognize from their laughs they are high. I haven’t smoked weed in months, but sometimes I miss the bliss that comes with it. I think a lot; it solves that issue.
As I pass Jehovah’s Witnesses, they ask me how I am doing. I respond and return the question. My feet do not stop. Walking is lonelier without headphones.
