Sidewalk Static
I wait the same way I always do coffee warm in my hand, bread soft between my fingers, morning quiet but restless. Cars pass, faces blur, the world holds its breath. I’m just waiting for the ride to the office. Nothing unusual.
Except this time, I smoked a jay. Just a little. A small rebellion folded into routine. At first, it feels light l, then the air thickens. The sound of footsteps turns sharp, metallic. People’s movements seem too precise, too aware. My chest tightens. Every glance feels like a question I can’t answer.
I try to act normal, whatever that means. My mind starts slipping through cracks. A wave of heat climbs up my neck. My heart skips and races all at once. They’re looking. I’m sure of it. No one’s looking, but I feel it. Like their eyes are just behind me, waiting for me to turn around.
I bury myself in my phone. The glow feels safe, like hiding under a blanket made of pixels. Everyone does this. If I stare long enough, maybe I’ll blend in. The digital hum masks the silence between me and the world.
But time here isn’t real. It stretches thin, then snaps back. The high shifts, loosens its grip. Ten minutes or a lifetime. The fear dissolves quietly, leaving a strange calm behind. I look up. The local shop is setting up for the day. Plastic crates clatter, laughter ripples.
Their focus moves on. Mine follows. I feel human again, ordinary, almost invisible.
Except this time, I smoked a jay. Just a little. A small rebellion folded into routine. At first, it feels light l, then the air thickens. The sound of footsteps turns sharp, metallic. People’s movements seem too precise, too aware. My chest tightens. Every glance feels like a question I can’t answer.
I try to act normal, whatever that means. My mind starts slipping through cracks. A wave of heat climbs up my neck. My heart skips and races all at once. They’re looking. I’m sure of it. No one’s looking, but I feel it. Like their eyes are just behind me, waiting for me to turn around.
I bury myself in my phone. The glow feels safe, like hiding under a blanket made of pixels. Everyone does this. If I stare long enough, maybe I’ll blend in. The digital hum masks the silence between me and the world.
But time here isn’t real. It stretches thin, then snaps back. The high shifts, loosens its grip. Ten minutes or a lifetime. The fear dissolves quietly, leaving a strange calm behind. I look up. The local shop is setting up for the day. Plastic crates clatter, laughter ripples.
Their focus moves on. Mine follows. I feel human again, ordinary, almost invisible.
