This morning, I was suited up and ready to go, but I needed gas first. I stopped at the light right before the gas station as a Buddhist monk wearing a leather baseball jacket over his saffron robes crossed the light. I've seen a few in this neighborhood before. I don't know where they live.

As I pulled the bike up to the pump, a little old lady clutching a big vinyl purse walked across the blacktop. As I turned from the ATM kiosk, she was walking back because the doors of the mini-mart weren't open yet. She proceeded to station herself in front of the tattoo place next door, pacing back and forth in front of the door and clutching her big vinyl purse. I looked up, and the monk was pacing back and forth in front of the dry cleaner's place. They were both walking back and forth and stopping occasionally to look up and down the street.

As I left, they were both walking down the same little side street in the same direction. Toward my street.