One October, me being me costs me $125.
I’m sick. I leave work early, at six, am in the shower by 6:30, by 7 calling every locksmith in the phonebook. I don’t remember locking the bathroom door behind me when I entered the adjoining bedroom, then headed back to the bathroom, only to find the door locked. From the inside.
The last number I dial says he’ll be over in 15. 15 pass, then a few more, grace minutes, minutes that feel lighter than minutes, because the first few minutes you trust anyone are the easiest. When the locksmith arrives I think what a lovely tribe strangers can be.