Mark walked up to the counter and told the man, “Two sandwiches please, extra spicy.”The man looked down at him and shook his head. He was out of bread, but he still had some sauce.
“That’s okay,” Mark said as he nodded his head.
“Gimme whatcha got.”
So the man walked to the other end of the trailer and ladled two scoops of sauce into a bowl. He sprinkled the top with some lettuce, a few slices of tomato and a spoonful of diced onions. Just as he reached for the turkey, his heart began to give out.
Mark could hear the groaning sounds of a man twice his age. First they were low and almost inaudible. Yet each moan grew louder and more painful. It sounded like a helpless man who had fallen. Wait. He had fallen. Am I still going to get my turkey bowl?
20 seconds later the man was dead. A few slices of turkey - still fresh – were somewhere smudged between the floor and the man. Mark didn’t know what to do. Maybe he had a bad cold? I’m sure he’s alright. I’ll just… wait here.
So Mark waited for a bit. Then another bit. He even tried to peep his head over the counter and into the trailer to see if it was a-okay in there.
Shit, man. Where’s my fuckin’ sandwich?
He had already given $6.50 to the man.
But Mark never got his sandwich. A young woman across the street in a short black skirt, ripped lace stockings and 3-inch heels was storming past him. Some oversized oval-shaped glasses shielded her slender face. Her bag… Oh her bag. Is that Balenciaga?
Mark never got his two scoops of sauce in a bowl. But he did walk across the street.
And the man? Last time he did that was in the morning.
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