2012-03-15 - 4:44 p.m.
Yesterday, at the little grocery store near around the corner, the checkout guy was bagging my things when I remembered that I'd brought along a reusable sack. "Sorry," I said, as he removed the crackers, the peppers, the juice from the plastic bags and nestled them into the bag I'd opened for him. He was 25, lightly brown, thin, an afro the thickness of a long novel. He looked up at me, smiled the smallest smile, and looked me in the eye. "S'cool, baby," he said, and, just then, I felt let in on a little secret, and the secret was: there, for a moment, was the coolest young man alive.
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