Banter? I just met her...
wearing red cap, dark pants, dark jacket, dark sunglasses, headphones
rotund Hispanic teen:
wearing oversized, blue, knock-off, down parka, oversized denim shorts, white high-top K Swiss
person of the street:
wearing green Patagonia (dirty), light blue t-shirt (dirty), blue Cal-Neva Casino corduroy cap (dirty), dark trousers (dirty), 1 boot and 1 Nike high-top shoes.
Market St and Valencia, sunny, Sunday afternoon. I am walking north, RHT walks south reaching into his jacket seeming to situate or locate an item needed for immediate use. POTS drunkenly meanders north between me and RHT.
A blue item falls out of RHT pseudo parka yet he still searches for the object from within, each step walks him further away from item dropped onto sidewalk. In passing, I tap RHT on arm and in a voice with ipod blaring through my headphones I speak:
"Hey man, you dropped something," not knowing if my pitch was a yell or a whisper because of blaring ipod.
RHT looks at me as if he doesn't understand, so I point at blue object on sidewalk, which matches his outfit splendidly I must say. He turns and looks.
As RHT looks to my pointing area and sees the garment object on the sidewalk, POTS places his 5/6th percent smoked cigarette butt from his right hand into a slot in his mouth where several teeth used to be, bends over, picks up blue object, admires it smilingly.
I become adjacent to POTS, tap his shoulder and say,
"I think that is his," spoken in same voice mentioned above nary breaking stride. As I turn away I see RHT approach POTS with same quixotic look he gave me, reaching for his blue object, securley in POTS hands.'
I walk fast