Good Old Old Man

There's this old guy that I see in my neighborhood. I have to describe the layout of my street. One side is all apartment buildings, and the other side is some houses and some smaller apartment buildings. The street at one end leads to a small street which is adjacent to a major road, and the other end leads directly to the next major road. As I walk out to that second major road, there is on the near right corner a vacant storefront which is oddly busy in the back. That's where the man is.

I wonder plenty what all the work in the back is about if there's nothing going on out front. It's enough to be suspicious, and the old man does nothing to allay that. It's bad enough that he's there without that, though. I feel dread about passing him, and it's not that he's remotely unpleasant (because he's not) or that he will just be sitting there asleep in his chair or otherwise minimally aware of his surroundings (although that is true).

The thing is that I dread the moment when I pass him and have to say hello. I don't actually have to say anything, of course. I could just walk by him, as others probably do. I certainly do that with the people looking for donations and signatures out by the coffee shop, but with this guy I can't. I have make eye contact and wave while saying hello. That is a relatively trying thing for me to do, and explaining why is difficult.

We all have just so much energy for social interaction, and I have both more and less. I have more of a very particular sort that relates to joking around within trusted circles, and very little of the practical sort that relates to the exchanges one has with receptionists, acquaintances and sleepy old men who are perpetually to be found sitting in the sun outside a non-operational business with a beehive of activity serving no evident purpose. That's my cross to bear.