Her alarm goes off at 7a.m. as it does every morning. There’s no reason, no where she needs to be. She simply decided that being a morning person means that you’re a little bit better than everyone else. You have more hours to your day, you get to mingle with the other morning people that sleeper-inners never get to see, and you’re able to accomplish tasks before people are even alive yet. She decided being a morning person was a higher ranking of humanity, a higher species in the animal kingdom. People pretend to have money by shopping at designer thrift stores, she pretends to be a morning person by having a daily alarm. She sits up on her air mattress, that’s significantly deflated, and stumbles across it. Each step a meticulous balancing act to not fall back into it’s abyss. It’s size takes up most of her room, she should have bought a single- not a queen, but who’s she kidding, she didn’t even buy it. It was given to her by her parents as a house warming gift. Alarm off. Wash face. Brush teeth. Create some sort of hair style that’s polished just enough to disguise her lack of showering. She lifts her mascara brush into the air like a graceful fairy and swoops and sways her eyelashes till her eyes are the center of attention. She grabs her keys and folds her yoga mat into a perfect square instead of rolled up as it traditionally is by yoga goers. and ventures outside.
Each morning she walks by the same newsstand where she has a five minute chat with Earl, the newsstand guy. Five minutes is just enough time to slip a newspaper under her arm discreetly under the yoga mat without Earl noticing. She begins the small talk close enough to the newsstand so that he can only stare into what he calls her root-beer eyes. Her body is hidden by the various stacks of candy, gum, and of course newspapers. She begins with the tips of her fingers inching the paper from it’s stack to her left leg. She holds the newspaper to her left thigh with her left hand, then raises her right arm so her elbow can rest on top of the newsstand with her hand under her chin as if it were a natural gesture within the conversation. Then she uses her left hand to inch the paper up her side body. Right when she’s about to drop it, she acts as if she’s adjusting her yoga mat under her arm and slips the paper into position. She’s been doing this for six months.
She doesn’t steal traditionally, only her morning paper. The thrill of almost getting caught is her coffee in the morning, an alarming rush to her system she has now grown addicted to. She doesn’t even practice yoga. Yet, each morning she and Earl discuss the workout she’s about to embark on. This is where humans differ from animals. They can lie, cheat, steal. She ends the conversation as she always does saying she better hurry up if she’s going to make it for the opening prayer and bids him well. Feeling the endorphins from her newspaper securely under her arm propels her to her morning ritual, the river park bench.
She walks the fifteen minutes all the way west to her beloved bench where she can watch the runners, dog walkers, bikers, and roller-bladers wiz by. She reads her free paper, people watches, and reflects on the previous day. Only today her bench wasn’t free. Her bench was always free. But a Brazilian woman and her dog had occupied it. Her morning routine was broken. She hated confrontation, but she hated spontaneity more. The idea of talking to a stranger with a K-9 was too out of the ordinary before 10 o’clock am. The morning time was hers, sacred, undisturbed, unchanging. And now this Brazilian woman had the audacity to change that? Bitch. Within minutes she began to grow deep disdain for this woman who had no name.
Her brain began to rattle through various things she could say to her that might remove her from the bench. That bench is mine...unreasonable. I heard someone calling you...don’t know her name. There are no dogs allowed here...people are walking dogs before her. I will stab you if you don’t move! Perfect. That’s what she would say. She would sneak behind this woman so close to her ear, nearly frightening her half to death. Then as she’s laughing over the mistake of being startled by a beautiful young wide-eyed girl she would whisper, I’ll stab you if you don’t move off this bench, now.
If she can steal papers daily, she could surely threaten an elderly woman to move off her sacred bench. She tip-toes over to the woman, leans behind her to her ear and whispers. The dog begins to bark, the woman doesn't hear her. She’s blind and deaf. This K-9 is her watch dog. Fuck this woman. Fuck her! She mustered up the courage to startle someone incapable of drinking in her threats. But this woman must leave. Time for plan B.
