"Hello."
Tens of thousands of feet each day. Shiny leather, gleaming buttons, zippers that don't ever stick. Shoes don't look you in the eye, but past you, like they have somewhere more important to be. You don't just take a joyride on someone's foot, you know. Shoes like that, you're going places.
"Good day, sir. How are you doing?"
There's a buzz in the air, like someone knocked a pot of coffee over and it spilled, down into the atmosphere with no umbrellas to catch it. The sky was dark and spotted with clouds, yet somehow, it wasn't raining.
"Morning. Funny weather we've been having, huh?"
Ringtones blur into a haze of pleasant chaos, and it's cold out. You can see the breaths of people passing, and not just the smokers. Suspended in the air like little cauliflower ghosts, they wave their little foggy tails in parting before they disappear.
"Hello. Hi. Hello."
I waved back once, but everyone looked at me like I had sprouted another nose. Maybe I was going insane, talking to objects that only seemed to exist for a few split seconds until they, too, were swept away by the economic demand on Wall Street's sidewalk.
"Ciao. Bonjour. Aloha, ma'am."
When I talk to people, they look at me like I'm crazy, too. Whenever I open my mouth, the little frown lines on someone's brow make me want to close it forever and swallow my tongue, locking it up in the safe that is my stomach and throwing away the key forever.
"Hello there. Good day."
Nobody really feels guilty, overlooking me like a fly on the wall. Just another stranger, right? I'll probably be the guy behind the counter when you swipe your MetroCard home, or the guy walking his dog in front of your apartment near the park, or the guy who asks you for a stick of gum, because he has a date tonight and doesn't want to scare her away.
"Hi. How are you? I'm fine, thanks for asking."
They don't ask. They'll never see me again, after the subway or the sidewalk or the corner store. I'm a face, and I blend into the crowd, like someone smudged their fingertip across the chalky mass of New York, blurring the lines together until no one is recognizable anymore.
"Good day. Good morning. Good afternoon, miss."
I say hello to everyone that passes me, and make deals with myself, to try to talk me out of what I'm going to do. If anyone says hello back, if anyone nods back, if anyone gives the slightest hint of a smile, I won't do it. I won't be the guy on the news who went on a trigger-happy rampage through a high school. I won't be the guy on the wanted posters hanging in the police department window. I won't be the guy who hung himself from his living room rafter with the only shirt he owns.
"Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello."
If anyone pays attention to me at all.
"Hello?"
---
Just don't sweat it
Hope you regret it
When your elevator takes you there.
Look up, honey
It's raining money
And people are starting to stare.
Hold my old boots
While I dig up the roots
And your hands remain unsoiled.
Face facts, baby
Possibly, maybe,
In guilt you will be boiled.
