Michele Feltman Strider@michelestrider@mastodon.social
It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.
Being familiar with a 24-hour clock, you realize you're late for lunch. You decide to walk to one of the nearby food trucks. It's a perfect day for it. All you need is a light jacket.
You make your way down the clean-but-not-in-an-uncanny-way sidewalk to where food vendors gather in colorful, fractious flocks. The chirp and hum of hungry people envelopes you. Cooking smells tickle your whole face. You survey the options.
Michele Feltman Strider@michelestrider@mastodon.social
Not one to pass up cilantro, you join the queue for the taco truck. A man is cutting fresh limes. A cute kid goes down the line offering samples of aguas frescas. No one holds things up by taking selfies with the truck logo. It's perfect.
You order and get your food slap-fast. Chilled Jamaica in hand, you look for a place to sit.
You can squeeze in with the picnic table tech types, parklet grass hippies, or umbrella-standing-table gaming enthusiasts. Or sit by yourself, under a friendly tree.
