In a coffee shop on the park, this man is putting together a model airplane. It is an A38-800 Airbus.

The counter guy is not pleased. This man comes around too often and perhaps stays too long; the airplane takes up too much room at a communal table. The counter guy approaches. Oh great, he says. You’re here to stink up the place with airplane glue.

Oh no! the hobbyist says, grinning. He is a man who doesn’t often get attention from strangers. I’m just cutting it out. See? The counter guy nods and makes a nasal sound.

In the corner a professional ballerina is being photographed with her students. In the bathroom, the girl in the next stall answers her cell phone while she’s peeing. She makes plans to meet up for drinks with her pants around her ankles. She is wearing blue Puma tennis shoes, and I wonder if her friend can hear the rattle of the toilet paper dispenser as they decide between Doc’s and Blondies. She hangs up and leaves without washing her hands.

This morning we’re watching war TV. We turn it off to go about our lives. Upstairs, our neighbors are watching war TV. Downstairs the landlady is watching war TV. For the first time, the thin walls are a comfort.

The guy with the shaved head is pretending to fight with his fraternity brother. They do a few drunken karate-ha! kicks before the bald guy decides head butts would be more effective. He removes his plastic Leprechaun hat, charges up the alley, rebounds off of his friend’s stomach, and retreats to charge again. One of the shamrock stickers falls from his cheek.

Later that evening, the DJ’s bass will blow just as the crowd has gotten frothy over Come on Eileen. At 4 a.m., Bryan wakes me with a jug of water and two Advils. This is a man I could spend some time with.

This gentleman is walking fast and bad. He has his hair teased out, his tracksuit just so, and he’s looking around for someone to shove. He decides to clear out the nasty taste in his mouth and jerks his head left to spit. The spittle doesn’t quite clear his shoulder. He pretends not to notice.

My sister bought me a set of bath stuff for Christmas. When I took it into the bathroom, I realized that the bath gel matched our shower curtain. I was much too pleased about this.

Did you ever have one of those days where every little thing just fell into place? Friday was like that for me. I got to my car fifteen minutes after I should have moved it for street cleaning. No ticket. I climbed in and rolled the windows down. It was February, but it was balmy; the air tasted good. I was on my way to lunch with a new friend, one of those people you keep meaning to make time for. Every light was green; pedestrians waited for me to pass before they tried to cross; there was a legal parking space right in front of the cafe. I had a tuna sandwich with coconut, and seaweed, and a mild vinagrette; the ice water was particularly crisp. My friend and I talked about small, good things; we sat on the back patio where flowers were in bloom. And as I was driving home,Groovin came on the radio. If I’d had some good chocolate in the glove compartment, I probably could’ve ascended.

About a year ago, Bryan and I started walking all the streets of the city together. Last night we stepped around some wet cement. Someone had scratched antelope on its surface. And that’s, you know, a good reminder to us all.