I remember feeling a tinge of Weary Lonesome, trudging up that familiar hill.
I probably thought I hadn't accomplished enough that day.
A loose-limbed man appeared at the top. He lurch-trotted down the strip of grass beside the sidewalk with his arm out like he wanted to high-five the woman ahead of me.
She kept walking without responding, clamping her purse tighter with an elbow.
His home-run grin didn't falter at all. He veered around the handicapped parking sign, careening towards me, and slapped my hand awake with a solid sting.
I so enjoyed the rest of the walk home.
