It never ceases to amaze me how mindlessly the masses gather together. But worst of all, most of them participate willingly. It’s a wonder our society is this strong and has lasted this long. All it would take is one evil mastermind and they’d all be drinking the kool aid.
Unfortunately, unlike the clanging throng of people around me, I had little choice in my whereabouts, for my ride was too busy sniffing though the various vendors’ merchandise. Undoubtedly, I would be stuck at the farmers market for most of the foreseeable future. Lord, give me the fortitude to endure this insufferably long day.
Parking my wheelchair under the shade of a large tree, I watched the people bustle about the different booths. The stands ranged from farm fresh foods to lemonade tainted with insane ingredients, such as basil, watermelon, and ghost peppers.
Squinting in the sunlight, I dragged a notebook from my bag with the intention of ignoring everyone and everything around me. And I had three pretty good reasons for doing so.
One, I conveniently did not have the cash to purchase whatever overpriced hippie-food they were selling.
Two, I didn’t trust salesmen.
And lastly, I had no real desire to have vendors pout over my disability. Just because I had lost the ability to walk, did not mean I had lost all will and reason to live. Honestly, it was not the most life shattering moment of my existence.
I realized my efforts to hide were about to become useless as a man crossed the parking lot and sat on the bench next to me. Great, another unwanted pity party about to be thrown on my behalf. And it was starting in three, two, one…
“Don’t suppose you know where the closest police station is?” the man asked.
Wait, what?
“Haven’t you got a cell phone?” I asked, quickly recovering from my shock at finding someone who was almost as socially impaired as myself.
“I have a flip phone. Don’t care for the screens on the new devices.”
“The station is just down the street, about seven minutes away.” I reached into my pack again and handed him a map. I pointed to the building circled frantically in red. “You can keep the map if you want.”
“Thanks.” He stood and struck the map in his pocket. He seemed about to leave me in peace, but he hung back, almost glaring. “What happened to your cheek?”
I resisted the urge to cover up the large bruise blossoming under my eye. Allowing a relaxed smile to lift my face, I wondered how good he was at spotting liars.
“I fell out of the chair this morning. Always been a bit of a klutz.”
“How old are you, kid?”
“Twelve.”
“Must be hard to be in the chair.”
“I’ve gotten use to it.”
“Don’t think I could ever get used to that.”
“I’m sure you’d do fine, sir.”
“Thanks again, for the map.”
“They’re a fine group of guys, hope they can help you.”
“Actually, I’m the one who’s doing the helping.”
He turned and walked away, leaving me slightly confused. Curiosity getting the better of me, I called out to his retreating back.
“Sorry sir, I didn’t get your name.”
“Sun Cho.”
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