He got off the couch and wiped sperm off the end of his cock. Then he shook it out. It was his last pair of boxer shorts and he didn’t have enough change to use the washer. He rubbed his finger on the couch and decided to take a look at himself before leaving. In the mirror he saw five days worth of growth on his face. No matter, he thought. He was going to get the check and leave.

He left the first floor apartment and the hall outside looked very small. He struggled to squeeze through it. The thin rug was a pale green and he could feel the cloth needles through his boots. His nose itched so he stuck his finger up the left nostril and pulled out a housefly. “Damn it,” he said. Its damp wings were still flapping so he squashed it in his thumb and forefinger and put it in his pocket for later.

When he got outside, he saw his neighbors working on the apartment lawn. “How are ya?” a thirty-year-old sickly-thin man asked.

Harry was hoping he could ignore the question, but their eyes met seconds later and he was forced to nod. He brushed the hair on his face as he walked to the street. Harry didn’t like taking the bus. He had little respect for the people riding. He didn’t like the way everyone looked at each other, saying nothing. He didn’t like the people on the street, waiting. The way they’d anticipate their bus, getting on their toes to see over everyone else, it hurt his stomach.

He got on the bus and inserted his dollar bills. The price of a ride was two dollars, even.

“Hello,” he said to the driver, a large woman with dark red lipstick.

“Mmm-hmmm,” she said. He felt his mouth droop as the woman stared straight ahead, waiting for him to uncrumple the second bill.

He walked toward the back of the bus to find a seat. A twenty-year-old wearing large headphones leaned back, staring out the window. Harry liked the boy’s white baseball hat but wished there were a team logo somewhere on it. As he passed he could hear the music clearly. He felt a bond with the boy. He turned to look at him. The boy lifted off the left headphone.

“What the fuck you lookin’ at?”

“I noticed your cap,” Harry said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like it.”

“So what’s yer point?”

“No point, really. I just think it’s a fine piece of clothing.”

With the headphone pushed back on the boy’s head, the music was clear. Harry started bending his knees to the beat.

“What the fuck?”

“I told you, I like the music.”

“No, you said you like the hat.”

The bus driver hit the gas fast and Harry lost his footing. He fell onto the dirty floor. He got up, wiping pieces of dirt out of his beard. He also found a grape tangled in his hair. The boy put his headphones back on, laughing at Harry.

He got up and found a seat next to a small, old black man with a gray beard, who also seemed to be laughing.

“Ain’t you the guy who works in the bagel shop?”

“Yeah. I’m him. I mean, I was. I got fired. I’m going to get my last check now. There should be a good two hundred or so in there.”

“I seen you there. You didn’t put enough cream cheese on my cinnamon raisin.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just want you to know for next time.”

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