. . . an ambulance arrived.
Waiting for the bus on most mornings, I tend to linger over the realization that I've been fired from every job I've ever held. With every commute southbound on Lake Shore Drive, I'm that much closer to batting 1000.
The flashing lights of the emrgency vehicle provided the perfect spectacle for the other commuters and I to forget about the frigid morning air and the jobs(slash)loves of last year.
The paramedic closed the rear doors, turned to us and began pointing.
"You're not dressed warm enough. You're not dressed warm enough. You're not dressed warm enough."
He ended on me, "And you're not warm enough."
I pointed to the C on my jacket. "This is a Carhartt."
But he was gone.
Soon the lights were far from view. And the coming bus was nowhere in sight.
The air felt cold again. I think I've been broken up with by every girlfriend, too.
Oh wait.
Kiely.
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1 comment:
I don't think either one of your sample populations are large enough to draw accurate conclusions from.
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