Today, I left Aaron’s apartment and noticed that one of the many clothing warehouses across the street was receiving a shipment. I am nearly certain it is a clever front for importing drugs — in the broad light of day, to a shop that appears to sort but never sell clothes. But I am not in an accusatory mood and so I will keep this theory to myself and the blogging community. This is only upsetting because I want to buy the clothes in some of the windows, but I’m relatively sure they’re not for sale. I mean, who sells clothes when they could sell drugs?
I discovered that the walk from the District Line to the Central Line is practically a marathon, although it seemed much shorter on the return journey, so maybe the fact that I was really hungry made it seem significantly longer. Or maybe I went an extra long way.
There was a man with a pinstriped suit on, which was slightly too large for him, and allowed me to see the pink silk-lined pockets on the inside of it as I approached him from below on the escalator. Just when I was beginning to pass him, I looked up and caught a glimpse of his open-mouthed yawn. The angle was just right for me to see the roof of his mouth and his teeth and I flinched a little, obviously because I thought he was turning into a lion.