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Dec. 1st, 2006 03:21 amThe Indian man who runs the 24-hour convenience store near the SkyTrain was listening to the weather report for the San Francisco bay area when I walked in. There was some kind of traffic problem in Oakland, and tomorrow residents can expect it to be bright and sunny and 'up around 60.' Usually he is listening to talk radio in a language I don't understand -- I wonder if that is also broadcast out of San Francisco.
He calls me 'boss', as in "anything else, boss?" and overcharges for everything, because he knows his is the only store open after 10 o'clock in a ten block radius. I wonder what else I could buy, since he asks me that every time.
The store looks like it has been pre-renovated for the apocalypse. It looks like a store in a movie that has been looted. There are too many shelves and not enough food; there are gaps where better days have been. The chips are stale. The floor is cracked. Everything in cans looks like it has been there for years. There is a drip coffee machine that someone left on in January, 1983.
Maybe he lives in San Francisco. Maybe he lives in San Francisco after the apocalypse and every day commutes to work through a hole in the cement floor of his basement bunker.
He calls me 'boss', as in "anything else, boss?" and overcharges for everything, because he knows his is the only store open after 10 o'clock in a ten block radius. I wonder what else I could buy, since he asks me that every time.
The store looks like it has been pre-renovated for the apocalypse. It looks like a store in a movie that has been looted. There are too many shelves and not enough food; there are gaps where better days have been. The chips are stale. The floor is cracked. Everything in cans looks like it has been there for years. There is a drip coffee machine that someone left on in January, 1983.
Maybe he lives in San Francisco. Maybe he lives in San Francisco after the apocalypse and every day commutes to work through a hole in the cement floor of his basement bunker.
