Category — 47x365

I was in the left lane, gaining on a car to my right, when a silver car behind it shot into the closing gap. I stomped my brakes, swearing. But I was glad to let YOU zoom by, especially when you flashed blue lights at silver-car man.

You had to be in your late sixties, waiting by the register in your crisply ironed short-sleeved shirt and navy slacks, smelling faintly of Old Spice and shaving cream. You stood ramrod straight, a lifetime of experience behind you, bagging my groceries. I smiled to hide sympathy.

I was pleased that you had played college-level soccer long before you coached my daughter’s team. I watched you patiently teaching headers, demonstrating technique by butting the ball with your forehead three or four times for each of the nine girls. You deserve a medal. And Excedrin.