A man dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers steps out of a doorway to a red, three story brick building on a city street in the early morning hours of a cool spring morning. He had been checking his mailbox in a small post office located on the ground floor of the building.
He steps off the curb behind his truck parked in a spot and gags, then spits on the pavement.
"Oh. You're disgusting. Thanks for sharing this early in the morning!" a tattooed, overweight, brunette woman with medium length hair wearing a florid summer dress and walking with her skinny friend dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt with logo remarks from the sidewalk stopping in their tracks. No one else is on the street.
"Thanks. You're beautiful," the man retorts taking notice of them as he lifts the latch to the driver door of his truck.
"Thanks. You're not!" the woman remarks.
The man thinks to say something, but enters the truck's driver side and shuts the door instead. His girlfriend is waiting in the passenger seat. He tells his girlfriend what the woman had said to him as the two women on the street walk past her passenger side window.
His girlfriend looks out of the half open window at the women and says nothing.
"She's fat and gross anyway," the man tells his girlfriend.
The man and girlfriend in the truck drink coffee bought at the coffee shop by the man before he checks his mailbox. The coffee shop is adjacent to the post office. They listen to a rock n roll radio station that the man likes. They listen to it loud.
"Long legs and burgundy lips...girls, girls, girls..." the song wails over the frequency as the overweight woman and her friend walk down the block and disappear out of view.
Shadows of the buildings shade the two in the truck in the early morning light. Sun lights red brick buildings and the sidewalk across the street. Windows glare reflecting light. Building shadows seem to creep along the pavement as the sun rises higher in the sky receding into the sidewalk where the two women were walking and remarked on the man spitting.
The man gulps his hot coffee, chortles, gags then spits again out of the driver side window where he is seated next to his girlfriend in the passenger seat.
"God! I'm disgusting," he remarks to his girlfriend as he stubs his cigarette in the ashtray with the radio on ads and turned down.
"Yes, you are," his girlfriend agrees.
"Well, you don't have to agree with me!"
"Well, you are."
"Men are disgusting. My mother says that men are disgusting. I'm a man. So, I'm disgusting."
"Not all men are disgusting."
"Yeah they are. All men are disgusting. All they want is sex ... speaking of which: kiss me!"
"No. You're gross!"
"Oh. Come on! I know you want to."
"No I don't!"
"Yes, you do though. I can see it in your eyes."
His girlfriend half turns her head toward him and rolls her eyes. Music plays on the radio not as loud as the previous song so the two can hear each other. The man turns it up.
"Teenage wasteland ... they're all wasted ..."
The two in the black truck in the parking spot on a two way city street sip their coffees in silence and smoke roll your own cigarettes. The coffee is drunk and the man turns the key to the ignition. The truck starts. He rolls another cigarette, music blaring and a passer-by or two walking down the block take no notice, or seems not to. Some one or two people enter the coffee shop while the man in the truck idles his truck looking in his side view mirror for oncoming traffic so he can U-turn. The truck lurches into the street out of the parking spot and into a U-turn. There are no cars parked on the other side of the street in the spots. The man swings the truck straight in the opposite direction headed west towards home.
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