I Wonder If...

I left the library today. Three movies in my hand, knowing one was at home. I thought about how I'd be back on Monday to return them. Who knows if the woman with her three kids, one in her arms, maybe three, four months old, and two others, maybe four or five, wanted one of them. The automatic doors opened and I was immediately hit with the smell of a diesel exhaust. The gray haired lady approaching winced and her nose twitched like Tabitha. She gasped a little, then passed. I turned the corner and saw a woman in a short black dress checking under the hood of her car, almost leaning in far enough that the workers across the street would be rewarded for their stare. I walked down the street, passed a bow legged old man, wearing a slightly too small blue polo shirt, with a tattoo reminiscent of Popeye. I nodded, then thought of whether he was a sailor and if he'd seen battle. A muscular man with ear buds passed again, almost trying to bump shoulders with me on the more than wide enough sidewalk. I crossed over mid street and felt the warmth of the sun on my face. I stepped onto the sidewalk and noticed a man, the hotel's employee, chasing an empty plastic bottle in the breeze. His blue shirt, matching that of the old man, but with words across the chest. I think his name or that of the hotel. I smiled, he laughed. I turned the corner, changing my gait to give way to a woman with a fancy walking stick. Too proud to use a cane,, I suppose. A bucket hat pulled down to protect her from the glare. I stopped briefly, letting a car pull into a driveway, the father waved, the two children in their seats, screaming, seemingly having a ball. I heard the father laugh and I smiled. This smile continued as a past by a woman with short black hair, green shirt and yoga pants. She smiled back and locked eyes, then looked ahead. I passed a young college girl, staring at her phone, bopping her head to music, shifting my steps to avoid her concentration. I skipped over some leaves and into the street, entering my car. The heat from the interior felt immediately, turned the key, as the windows rolled down, the music came on; Chuck Berry's No Particular Place To Go. Apropos, I thought, and shifted into drive. Left or right?

I wonder if anyone I passed remember me.