the man with grey pants always sitting in pioneer square when i am reading my book at lunch. usually we are both wearing grey pants with black shirts, a uniform of sorts. he smokes a cigarette and i watch him out of the corner of my eye. i wonder what his apartment looks like, what cds he has spilled on the floor, what hair products scattered around the sink basin. i imagine he sleeps in expensive sheets and doesn't cook very often. i imagine that i am probly older than him and the thought seems very silly.