A fellow shopper stopped to talk to McKay and tell him out handsome he was. She was thin and grey-haired and wore an emblished purple shirt. And a purple sequinted headband with a small matching feather sticking out of it. I think she was with her son shopping.

The day laborers were digging by hand a long, narrow, shallow, and perfectly straight trench along the banks of the canal, presumable to bury cables of some sort. It looked like a fortress built by a tribe of moles. When they finished the job, they covered it up and packed down the dirt, making a long, uniform scar on the ground.

We were out for Valentine's dinner and sat at a table next to an intriguing couple. She was a cute, blong, early thirtish girl sporty a shiny, red blouse certainly worn just for the occasion. He was a fully grey-headed early fiftish Ethnic man in a black fleece pulloever, jeans, and bulky black lace-up shoes. She chatted non-stop, except when they were eating, and he listened with a sweet disposition on his face, like he thought she was just adorable. We were so curious about what they were up to. Were they lovers? No, the body language said no. Were they friends? No, they didn't seem to be too chummy. Were they just aquaintances out for a frienly Valetine dinner? Perhaps. Did he have a crush on her while she just saw him as a nice older man? His face looked like it. Here's what I think: They live in the same apartment complex, bump into each other frequently, and have become surfacely friendly. He asked her out because he wanted a date for the holiday and he's lonely because he has been divorced for years. She has no romantic interest in him, but does enjoy his company. Poor guy.

McKay pelleted the green beans off of his tray like they were on fire and he had to get rid of them before they burned him to a crisp.