A few slices of cold steak, some purple cauliflower, and a bowl of raw, shredded brussel sprouts. Too crunchy to be good. I ate it on the bench, in the afternoon light outside of Union Market, perfect except for the strange old man who sat down quickly next to me, apparently enjoying things, as well. A tall, thin black girl walked by, interior of left thigh dotted with brash purple birthmarks. I had fat green olives with raw garlic cloves stuffed inside, which I am sure made my breath catastrophic. All the better for the fat, creeping man. Daniel was texting me that he missed me, though, and I walked home, lilting under the quiet quiet light, stop lights trembling from the underground rail and towering industrial cranes frozen, disbelieving, on the sweltering horizon.