November 18, 2021:

Tubby, jowly, slack. Talks with her husband about the texts they're currently exchanging; talks with her son about his video game; talks on the phone; talks to herself. As I get up to find a quieter seat, talks to her son to take the one I've left.

Blonde in stripes, hunched over junk food, brushing crumbs from white skinnyjeans. Shakes her head, scrolls her phone, brushes crumbs from purple toeless sandals.

I'm sleepless, unwell, unhappy to be among unmasked crowds, despite vaccination and as much distance as the infrastructure allows. And I'm ridiculously early. It'll be a long, sleepless, crankily unwell wait.