How Will You Feel Then?

There is an old man teetering through the locker room, pedaling homemade DVDs and breathing like a Freightliner truck. He’s wearing mismatched tennis shoes, a plain white shirt and a pair of khakis wrinkled like the skin of a cottonwood. “Did I give you one of these already?” he asks. “Yes,” they say, “I believe so,” and he keeps moving, three steps forward, one step back, inhale, exhale, a stack of rose-tinted jewel cases fixed between his fingers.

They are lying, these men, financial advisers and media specialists and high school civics instructors. They do not possess this man’s DVD. They do not want it, and do not wish to give him the wrong idea. They are not the right audience. They are very busy. They must go home now, back to their wives and children. They must be on their way.

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