Some observations.

A young couple eats pizza, while sitting on plastic chairs outside the shop. They are wearing t-shirts with faded logos blazoned across their chests. A panhandler sits next to them, on the sidewalk. He's eating a slice a pizza from the same shop. He says something. The couple laughs.

I make toast at one in the morning. The toaster sits next to the dish rack. I notice a brief flutter in the corner of my eye. I scan the counter, and a large insect bounces onto a plate drying in the rack. Its triangular body is a vivid green, ending at a point. Soundlessly, it leaps from plate to plate, briefly stopping to feel the air with its antennae. One final jump, and it vanishes.

Lately, I've been wearing Old Spice deodorant. I smell like my father, when he wore aftershave of the same name when I was a boy. Whenever he shaved, I would watch him in the mirror. He placed a dab of shaving cream into my hand and I smeared it across my face. Taking a small comb, I scraped off the soapy foam, imitating his movements. Our bathroom was filled with a sweet, heavy scent, like flowers in the rain.

Lying in bed, I heard a rattle rattle rattle from the bathroom, sounding like a car rolling over large stones. I walked into the room. The cat was pawing at the shower door, wanting to drink from the faucet.