Radiance

I'm waiting for something; a coffee, a donut, a table, I don't know; a haircut, a drink, a girl, I don't remember, but I'm waiting for it. Something where they take your coat. I know that because the man next to me is waiting to have his coat taken. That's what I remember. And what I notice about him is that he is smiling. And not nervously, not an awkward, out of place, too many limbs for one's own body type of smile. Just a happy, smiling, smiley smile. He's beaming no less. He stands there with his mole eyed glasses, beaming. That's where it was; the hairdressers. I remember now because he had a long ponytail, down to his waist, nicely juxtaposing his receding, thinning hairline. It was like a follicle tug of war, and I remember looking at him thinking, what are they going to do with you. And as I did so, as I scorned and sneered, he smiled a smile of such pure joy, love and happiness right back at me, that those superficial smirkings fell from my face that instant, and all I wanted was to be someone else.