On a rainy Saturday the plan was to go Irene’s for brunch, then to the Ravens game. The club sandwich was $15, which I thought was pretty outrageous. While wolfing down the food, I watched the pretty women of the Glebe come and go. I don’t know if they were talking of Michelangelo or not.
I skipped the game, because even going to Irene’s in a car I starting sneezing and coughing. I dreaded the return of my chest cold, which lasted a month. Indeed, on returning to my apartment, I slept for hours.
In the morning, the phone rang. I groggily awoke from a dream. I was dead and going out a date with an equally dead woman. We were reminiscing about how it felt to be alive.
Later in the morning, a friend and I went to Ikea. A toddler was being taken by his mother in a baby carriage looked up at me. I noticed the intelligence in the boy’s eyes, and the wry smile he was giving me; like a toddler Buddha.