Random Sequence

It was Wednesday, almost seven o'clock, still rush hour, and the honking taxis and endless flow of faces -- all different, all equally vacant -- was starting to annoy him. It was also hot, and the faint, summer-in-Manhattan smell of rotting garbage made him feel woozy. He was standing outside a fancy Upper West Side seafood restaurant called The Deep, feeling conspicuous in his soggy button-down shirt. As usual, he'd misjudged the transit time and arrived early....
--from "The Burden" (by me), originally published in ululation.com