*Based on true events

Jack was bored. He had been dutifully and faithfully following his beautiful wife around as she shopped for the past three hours or so (he couldn’t be sure exactly; time was somewhat of an illusion by now). They didn’t live near the city so excursions into it were always purposeful. Today’s purpose was retail therapy. Jack had agreed to this trip, even showed enthusiasm initially, but now, he was just looking forward to the end.

Amy was willfully ignoring Jack’s mood. She was a woman on a mission. She knew once he was fed and being paid attention to, his attitude would instantly change. For now, she was determined to enjoy herself. And she was. Her handbag in one arm, two retail bags in the other, and the rest with Jack. She marched up ahead through the busy thoroughfare, crossing the street, Jack lagging behind trying to keep up.

They were in the heart of the city, in one of the premiere shopping districts. They passed boutique store after boutique store. Grand architecture surrounded them. The crowd was varied; young couples, old couples, young families with strollers, tourists with cameras in hand, groups of teens laughing, hipsters on their skateboards or with their full guitar cases slung on a shoulder, trying to find the perfect spot to busk. There were the shabbily dressed and shabbily kempt that looked like they had slept on the streets, with beanie firmly secured and a full backpack fastened around their shoulders. Street vendors littered every couple of blocks slinging their snake oil and wares to anyone curious enough to glance. Jack and Amy were only vaguely aware of this vibrant diversity and the paradoxical microcosm they were strolling through.

Amy paused outside an artisanal soap and cosmetics store. A friend of hers loved their soaps; maybe she would buy her a present from here. Maybe she would buy herself something …

She turned to Jack who had already sensed his wife’s intent. “I just want to quickly take a look inside,” Amy said as she turned to face the store.

Jack (thought he) held back a groan as he looked at the store’s façade. People were streaming into and out of the shop. The sea of humanity was too daunting for Jack, so he said, “I’ll wait for you outside.”

Amy expected as much. “I’ll be 5 minutes,” she said sweetly. Both of them knew that wasn’t true. Jack watched her disappear into the throng.

Jack took a couple of steps backward, trying to stay out of the main path of the sidewalk. He spotted a set of rubbish bins on the edge of the sidewalk and thought he would make camp there. About three meters adjacent to the bins was a street vendor stall manned by a tie-dye wearing, dreadlock styled hippy selling bohemian jewelry. Jack thought it was a clever location, right opposite this exclusive female oriented soap and cosmetic store, but he seemingly wasn’t getting much business, as his stall was full of merchandise and barely anyone seemed to take any notice of him.

As Jack approached the bins, he saw a few smoking cigarette butts on the metallic rim. Nicotine and acrid smoke wafted into his nostrils. He hated cigarettes, but he supposed this spot would have to do for now, at least he was out of the way; he just hoped Amy wouldn’t be long. Jack took another glance towards the street vendor; he seemed to be in his own world, barely focusing on his potential customers or his merchandise. A woman came up to his stall and asked him how much a gaudy ring was, he disinterestedly told her it was $70 before leaning back and disengaging with her. He seemed to barely notice when she walked away.

Just as Jack was absent-mindedly pulling his phone out of his pocket to feign looking busy while he waited, a short wiry man seemingly came out of nowhere and walked briskly right up to Jack and the trash cans. He wore a baseball cap that was covered by the hood of his sweatshirt. His dark skin was leathery and his eyes were milky. Grey-white stubble speckled his chin. He looked frantic as he faced the bins. Jack took a step backward, as this man was far too close to him, forcing his way between Jack and the bins. He completely ignored Jack as he picked up one of the smoking cigarette butts off the edge of the bin and put it out by crushing it against the metallic rim, scattering ash over the surface, before putting the remaining cigarette butt into his mouth whole and chewing. He then hurriedly picked up two or three more butts before rushing off as suddenly as he had arrived.

Jack watched the man walk off and then looked around him to see if anyone else had just witnessed a human being collect and eat a cigarette butt off the side of a bin. No one seemed to have noticed. Jack looked over at the hippy, but he too hadn’t noticed, as he was absently swiping through his phone. Jack was a little bemused as he looked at the entrance of the shop; still no wife. He shook his head as his hand dove into his pocket for his phone again.

He managed to pull his phone out this time before he glanced up and saw a little old lady dressed all in black, making her way through the crowd, intermittently pausing to speak to anyone who made eye contact with her. He could not hear what she was saying but she clearly seemed distressed. From further down the street she looked up and locked eyes with Jack. Jack quickly looked away but it was too late, she was making a beeline right for him.

“Excuse me,” she said in what sounded like a Russian accent, “I need some assistance.” She was tiny, barely reaching up to Jack’s chest in height, hunched over and frail looking. She wore thick glasses and her hair was white and pulled back in a tight bun. “Can I bother you for some money – I need to buy my medication from the pharmacy but I don’t have enough. And my medication runs out today.”

Jack looked awkwardly at her. He believed her but he said, “I’m sorry, I don’t have any money on me right now.” Which was a true statement. His wallet only held his debit card and ID.  

She looked at him blankly and then barreled on; “I need my medication for my heart, it’s very important, and I have none left.”

“I understand,” Jack said apologetically, “but I haven’t got any money, just my card.”

“Please,” she exclaimed in her thick accent, her voice going up in octaves and decibels “I am having chest pains!”

“Oh, would you like me to call an ambulance?” Jack asked seriously with a look of concern on his face.

“No! I just need my medication!” She was becoming quite hysterical.

“If you’re getting chest pains, I really think you should go to a hospital,” Jack said trying to reason with her, “and they might be able to give you some of your medication there too,” he offered, trying to be helpful.

The old woman groaned at him and gave him a look of disgust before walking off towards her next target, waving her hand at him, as if to dismiss him. Jack watched her walk off, perturbed at the encounter.

Jack looked around again to see if anyone was witness to the scene that had just unfolded. Again, Jack realised that no one had seen. The bohemian jeweler was leaning against his stall, making eyes at two policemen who were walking on the other side of the street.

“Who carries cash anymore, anyway?” Jack muttered to himself, the sting of guilt sharp, as he unlocked his phone and absently swiped through his emails.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a cyclist ride by and past him, suddenly stopping at the hippy vendor’s stall. The cyclist was tall, wearing beige shorts, blue oddly patterned short sleeved shirt and sporting an impressive beard with a grey messenger bag around one shoulder – looking like the quintessential urban hipster. The hippy smiled at the hipster as he dismounted from his bike. They gave each other a bro-hug before murmuring greetings and pleasantries. Jack was only half paying attention as the hipster cyclist took off his messenger bag and unfastened the latch. The hippy stopped him by placing a hand on the bag as he looked over across the street again at the policemen who were about to turn a corner. They both watched the police until they had disappeared from view. Jack watched intently now as the hipster resumed opening the bag and pulled out a package wrapped in newspaper. The hippy reached underneath his stall and pulled out a full brown paper bag. They exchanged their packages.

Jack couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and suddenly realizing that he probably shouldn’t be caught staring, he turned back to his phone, quickly unlocking it again. The hippy is probably just restocking his stall, Jack thought to himself as he saw the hipster refasten his bag and hop back on his bike, riding off, out of the corner of his eye. Jack hazarded another glance at the hippy, who was now starting to pack up his stall.

“Hey!” Jack looked up and saw Amy walking towards him out of the store. “Sorry about the wait, it was crazy in there,” she said smiling, carrying a brand new retail bag with the store’s logo on it.

Jack quickly walked toward her and gently guided her forwards and down the street away from the hippy and his half packed up stall.

“Ok, ok,” she said a little annoyed about him rushing her off like that. “I know you had to wait and I’m sorry about that, but I’m done now.” She held his hand to slow him down. Jack looked at her and slowed down a little, and then glancing back behind them, he could see the hippy walking off in the other direction with his fold up table and two duffle bags in tow. He looked back at his wife who was still holding his hand and walking in step with him, but had pulled out her phone and was scrolling through her newsfeed. “So how bored were you?” she asked him half teasingly, half absently as she stared at the screen.