A Sudden Spurt Across Brown Paper
A stream of dark coffee poured over the side of the paper bag, soaking the bottom until apples and onions rolled across the asphalt.
The older man pulled his elbows close to his ribs and watched his groceries roll beneath the rear bumper of his sedan.
A woman stepped backward in her heels, pointing toward a silver shopping cart standing inches from the painted white stripe.
Beside her, a man adjusted his grey necktie and stepped forward, his mouth open as he jabbed a finger toward the ground.
Neither reached down to gather the loose produce rolling toward the traffic lane.
Engines Cut Off Across The Lot
Three motorcycles rolled to a stop along the curb, their headlamps reflecting against the rear quarter panel of the sedan.
A man wearing a heavy black leather jacket kicked down his stand and walked directly into the space between the bumpers.
His boots clicked on the asphalt as he stopped inches from the businessman’s lapels.
The woman lowered her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, her mouth dropping shut.
The businessman held his empty cardboard cup at waist level, his knuckles pale around the rim.
Behind them, a shop worker in an apron emerged through the automatic glass doors, pausing beside the curb.
Taking A Stand By The Trunk
The man in the leather jacket kept his gaze leveled forward, his index finger pointed at the front of the businessman’s suit.
He did not raise his voice, but his chest expanded as he spoke, gesturing back toward the older man standing against the open trunk.
The older man kept both hands wrapped around his remaining grocery sack, his shoulders pulled inward.
The businessman looked past the rider toward the group of cyclists idling near their kickstands, their arms folded.
His companion pulled her beige blazer tighter around herself and shifted her weight away from the puddle of coffee.
Cleaning Up The Asphalt
The shop employee dropped to both knees on the pavement between the parked cars.
He gathered the scattered oranges and loose bread, placing them back into a clean folded carton.
The businessman tucked his chin toward his collar, turned his back to the trunk, and stepped toward the passenger side of his car.
The leather-jacketed rider stood motionless beside the open trunk, hands hanging at his sides as the older driver reached inside to secure the remaining bags.
Send this to someone who always stands up for those who cannot fight back alone.
