R.I.P.

WORK FOREVER, PT. IV

Thirty-something black man wearing headphones, two backpacks, Incredible Hulk t-shirt, brown jacket, Adidas headband, and round like a cannonball comes in, like he always does, looking for the latest comic book shirt designs. He spends fifteen minutes collecting 6-8 potential purchases off of the XXL rack, explaining his rationale for each selection to me. I nod politely. He spreads the shirts across the length of the counter, preventing any further business from being transacted. Several minutes elapse before he settles on an Iron Man shirt.
"This one is real different 'cause he's holding Captain America's shield... Captain America!"
I smile dumbly. An uncomfortable silence sets in before I think to read him his total.
"That'll be $23.30."
He quickly produces $23 cash from a fresh bank withdrawal envelope. Then he not-so-quickly begins to plumb the depths of his pockets on a quest for thirty cents. Instead, he finds: eight loose paper clips, three safety pins and six AA batteries, which he examines one-by-one, never minding the line of impatient customers now growing behind him.
Entire minutes pass while the other customers and I share awkward glances. The whole store is at the mercy of a madman thirty cents short of an Iron Man shirt.
I am so impressed by his complete disregard for his surroundings that I decide to take his picture in plain view. Other customers smile at me sheepishly, though the madman himself registers no response.

I take another picture. This time he looks up suddenly. I am instantly embarrassed for mocking him so blatantly with my camera. But instead of confronting me, he simply extends a closed fist. A fist-bump gesture of no-hard-feelings, I wonder? Then it occurs to me.
I open my hand. He drops in three dimes.

My other bFF:

My bFF: