|new summer mouth: Lancôme "Love It!" lipstick with WW Fab Fuchsia|
His left eye was missing.
There were only surgically folded flaps of skin covering the socket
creating a bumpy indentation.
He had to be in his eighties, at least he looked it...whites age so poorly it's hard to tell.
He sat next to an older woman...younger than he was, but still the same deep, white wrinkles.
Another man rolled up with one of those push carts the old and fat usually wheel around; he poked his head into the bus shelter, peering in my direction...a non-verbal to make room from the pointed glare behind his shades. I shifted.
He then pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Before the first tendrils of smoke could singe my throat, I was immediately displaced. I waited outside in the uncomfortable heat, feeling the leather in my shoes giving way....
The bus pulled up and everyone boarded; it was one of those extended buses, but it was crowded nonetheless. I watched him amble in toward my seat wheeling his cart between the isles. He sat directly adjacent, one seat ahead.
Then he wanted to stop...about three stops ago.
"HEY, I WANNA STOP!"
His cries went completely ignored until the bus had a pick up and slowed to a halt. But not for him.
"HEY, LEMME OUT!"
The doors finally opened and as he began to exit, his cart fell into the gap between the curb and the bus. This man wasn't as elderly as the first two and therefore, not quite as innately helpless--just ragged...it was like the mean inside of him had seeped through his pores settling on his sallow white skin in the form of cracks and rough crevices. He appeared frail as he tried, ineffectively at first, to free the cart from the gap. The doors started to close on him before he could free his cart, hitting him and retracting.
I stared satisfied with the display a mere two feet in front of me.
I made no effort to displace myself.
Day 66: still looking at locals