The Long Way

I didn’t know your reason for wanting to take the long way but I’m glad you did. I knew you were cold and I worried about it, I didn’t know how cold, I didn’t know if we could risk getting you colder or not.

I wasn’t going to ask you to take the long way but I wanted you to walk further with me. You may remember that there was more than one long way to where we wanted to be; the route didn’t matter to me, it was walking with you I desired.

We’re not the same when we’re riding the T as we are walking about; and one of us being high on sugar and caffeine had little to do with needing to walk.

We ducked into the doorway of a vacant storefront. There was a family behind us and their conversation kept on intruding in my thoughts and outrunning them wasn’t a realist option so I made a reason for them to pass us.

The doorway to the vacant storefront used to be the doorway to a used and out-of-print bookstore. It was the same bookstore that we visited two days before, at their new location.

As I pulled her in, I said, “This is where Commonwealth Bookstore used to be. It looks to be about the same size as their new place.” She replied with, “What’s Commonwealth Bookstore.” I told her that the little bookstore hidden in that little alley that we went to was Commonwealth Bookstore and that the only reason I was showing her was to let that family that was behind us to pass.

While we were there, she looked around and read the graffiti; a young woman was walking by; she was walking by rather quickly, she seemed to be walking with purpose but when she saw us, she all of a sudden became intrigued. She made what seemed to be a ninety degree turn and marched right in. We left.

We continued down the street and a little while later, the young lady raced passed us and then stopped in a doorway to a college dormitory. I calculated that she was in that other doorway for a couple minutes. I wondered if she was fascinated by what she had seen or she was just simply trying to figure out why we were so fascinated by it.

I did call the young woman a sheep because sometimes I like to say mean things about people I don’t know, like stating that a delightful older woman wearing a delightful orange scarf, out to dinner with one of her girlfriends sitting at a table directly adjacent to us, just happens to look somewhat like the very aged Peter O’Toole.