He came out of Diesel on Suffolk Street with a hurried look about him, the 10 was drawing to its stop. Weighed down by bags of food and new clothing he ran awkwardly across to meet his way home.
Something caught his boots, his too old boots that have been worn to shreds with the heel separating from the rest, allowing in water on a rainy day.
A suit jacket and an incongruous grey button-up t-shirt tripping to the ground in front of the bus stopping inches from his face.
Groceries and garments at the wheel, hands scratched, scrambling for his goods with the concerned look of the bus driver above him.
Two Italian girls rush over, packing up his goods.
"You OK, you not hurt?"
"No, no, I'm fine, thanks so much. Thanks a million. Just a bit embarrassed."
"No need, we fall all time."
I fall all time, me and my stupid fucking loping gait.