Phony

There are phonies in this world. Edward looks me in the eye as he says this. He is accusing me of being one. He wears socks as mittens. This is what draws my attention to him. We chat for a bit. He's a native here and finds my friendliness refreshing among the land of not-so nice. He bought his wool socks at a food co-op where they were ten dollars cheaper than gloves. The downside is that they lack a place for the opposable human thumb, making objects hard to grasp. He tells me that the socks are perhaps punishment for already losing two pair of gloves this winter. This could be a signal for me, but I do not heed. I laugh as he attempts to pick up a cup of coffee. You might think this is funny, he says, but I feel like a comic and it doesn't feel good. Later, a girl pulls her little sister on a sled while leaving the library. I chuckle. I make eye contact with them and their father. Only two laugh back.