Snowed In

I am walking home from Chipotle tonight, belly distended and rather happy. As I dart around the bus stop on 5th and University, a muscular bald man who looks like he may have just been released from prison yells something unintelligible in my direction while crossing the street towards me.

I glance back and assume he was talking to someone else, but he responds to my glance with a “yeah, you.”

I stopp and look back at him. He slows down a little bit, looking slightly confused and then says “oh, I thought you were someone else…”

I start to turn away to start walking, and he continues “… you look just like a guy I just got out of jail with.”

Aha. I guess I wasn’t that far off on my assessment of his character. Not particularly interested in continuing a conversation with a convict, I grunt and keep walking, but he continues to address me. I can’t quite hear what he’s saying, but in my overactive imagination it sounds roughly like “My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father prepare to die.”

“Huh?” I say.

“You’ve got a twin walking around here,” he says.

“Oh,” I meekly return, imagining my ex-con doppelganger and what a pleasure it will be to someday cross paths with him on the street. “Maybe I’ll meet him some day.” I continue hurriedly on my way.

As I walk away I look at my reflection in the windows of a vintage clothing shop.

Maybe it’s time for a shave.