I sat on the low wall and watched the circus of humanity. I was waiting for Zen so we could get lunch. Beautiful spring days like this tend to bring out even the most domestic. Take for example the couple at the table adjacent to me. They were arguing about the most insipid things, but they were doing so sublimely.
"Your socks," she began, "I really wouldn't have thought to wear them with that tie."
"Really?" he mused. "I hadn't considered color so much. You know I'd rather we used a fragrance free detergent."
We three continued facing the green. On it could be seen a stay-at-home daddy group, most of whom romped on the grass with their charges who screamed excitedly at being chased by the bearded zombies. Students commandeered the patio furniture, their textbooks splayed beside them as they smiled or scowled into their phones.
Off to the side and in the shade, I noticed a yoga girl. She was balancing on a bright pink mat in a "tree" pose and looked terribly serene, except for her toenails, which clashed with the mat. I was just pondering what the couple next to me may have had to say about her unfortunate polish choice, but just as they began to discuss it, Zen came round.
"How 'bout hotdogs?" Zen said. "I'm in the mood."
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