There are no waffles in the world today for me.

Talus's life was a mess. As usual, he was late to catch the train. As usual, there were things which seem to impede his every move. First, he saw the line outside the waffle shop snake around the corner. He hated lines, and people in general. Secondly, he hated not knowing why things are so strange around this block, and thirdly, he was thwarted in his attempt at a detour. A bus, a raving woman decking the bus driver and the ensuing crowd, again, made Talus uneasy. He just stopped twenty feet from the stalled bus and the raving woman. The bus driver trying to pick himself up off the pavement and the lunatic standing over him as if she was standing in the middle of a boxing ring, daring him to stand after the TKO.
"Enough" thought Talus. "Enough." He turned to look for Teddy. Nowhere to be seen. Waffles probably beckoned him to some higher cause.

Talus looked around and saw others more interested in the rumble in the jungle than they were in breaking-up the fight. Each face hoping for the battle to continue.

He looked down at his shoe. Again, yet again, poop stuck to the toe of his shoe.

He turned and walked slowly back to his apartment. Before he entered the building, he stopped, removed his shoe and threw it into the street. As he turned, a bus drove past, flattening his shoe and turned it on it's side. Talus never looked back.

The Blind can hear

His name is Teddy. Talus walked by him almost everyday and turned his head to look at the blind man. On many days, Talus stopped to listen to the odd mix of music that Teddy played from his CD player. Although the music seemed not to emanate from a disc spinning madly in the player; rather, the music seemed come from the box itself. Teddy often sat in that spot to hoping that the sun would clean his clothes and comfort his aches. Talus merely stood and watched the player. Others would walk by, a few dropping random coins into the box. Talus wondered if those passers-by thought Talus and Teddy were a pair. One looking nowhere and one looking at nothing. Once when Talus linger a bit too long, Teddy sputtered a passage that sounded familiar to Talus. When he didn't move on, Teddy stated, "If you are just going to stand there, ask me a question." Startled, Talus jumped a little and asked, "What is your name?" "Teddy." "Is it short for anything?" "Yes." "What." "Don't remember." "Do you have enough money to buy batteries?" "Nope." Talus stopped talking when a Bach for cello piece came out of the speakers. Talus couldn't quite figure out how he knew that there was no CD playing, but he knew. No hum of a spinning disk, no way the local radio station played this music-- at least not this time of day. Teddy stirred and Talus could feel that Teddy was growing agitated with Talus's lingering. As he turned to leave, Teddy muttered, ""I have already. The truth with all its power lies inside me," as if Talus and Teddy were in the midst of a conversation. Strangely,Talus felt as if he were. With Teddy and the CD player. As he sat in his room Talus couldn't stop thinking about the CD player. He sat absently rubbing his fingers up and down the bow of his violin. Talus watched the boxes of fading sun angle across the velvetine couch. Dust floating like notes around the light. After some time, Talus rested the violin on his shoulder, tilted his head to rest his chin and closed his eyes. In the sound and darkness he heard the CD player playing his notes.

Trees, Vines and dog poop

The day started with Talus stepping into a very small pile of dog poop as he exited the apartment building. The slight slide of his shoe was the first indication of it and the muddied edge of his shoe sole confirmed it. He paused for a brief moment, removed his sunglasses, turned his foot at an angle, and looked down as if there was some question whether or not it was truly poop. It could not have been anything else. The city pavement was cracked and dusty from weeks without rain. Ms. Potter's vines dangled helplessly over the 3rd floor balcony, and the trees stood listless in the morning sun.

Talus put his hand out to steady himself on the building as he tried to scrap off the poop. This action smeared the poop on the pavement and a little farther down Talus's shoe. He paused again, feeling like a horse digging for a morsel of grass, and looked up into the hazy morning heat.

He wanted to return to his apartment, but knew he would be even later than he already was. "The train waits for no one," he thought. Talus was singularly adept at being a no one. As he continued his thought, "so why didn't it wait for him?" Talus was late, as always, because he was caught-up in practicing his violin. Bach was lately on his mind; he played Concerto #1 one for hours at a time.

Now he was simply late for work. He started toward the station, poop in tow, and Talus smelled waffles as he rounded the corner. Waffles always reminded him of opera. His grandmother would ask him to pick-up waffles on Sunday mornings so they could listen to opera from the local radio station and eat waffles. The morning sun glancing off the edge of the table, syrup glistening, and arias circling around the scraping of forks. Talus would watch his grandmother through his thick hair. Her eyes, already dimmed by time, would close at certain moments as if she was trying to remember something.

He paused for a moment and looked toward the smell, thought of the train and sighed. She was gone, and now he ate cereal on Sundays. The spoon scraped through the milk and silence. He descended into the tunnel. The stale air stirred through his thick hair as he looked down at the faded tile of the steps.