Late November in Glasgow is sunny and brisk. Yesterday a man named Smiley told me he liked to jog 6K home from work late at night but that he’d stopped for the ice on the pavements. One hour later I slipped on just such a patch in Queen’s Park.
On the train a fidget spinner, as if out of thin air, knocked against my leg and clattered to the floor. Is this some kind of plague, I thought. No one seemed to notice. Someone could have stumbled on the toy, so I used my foot to nudge it to the side for someone to discover. Some young boy on the platform must have plucked the thing from another child, perhaps a younger sibling, and tossed it aboard.
I almost picked it up, simply out of curiosity for how such a thing might be to hold, but I did not.