Thursday, October 2, 2008
The line was so long, Frank joined it just from some ingrained sense of participation. It was like one minute he was watching the line—which seemed to snake all the way around two blocks—and the next minute he was in it, with three people already behind him. No one seemed to be complaining. Every few minutes, just as Frank had the feeling that maybe he shouldn't be in the line, the person in front of him would shuffle forward a few steps, and a small spark of curiosity would keep Frank's mind from wandering too far. Besides, it was a nice day, fair weather, gentle breeze—why shouldn't he be standing in line. And it wasn't as if the line was full of undesirables. There were many people in suits and smart blouses, many with headphones, tapping away a rhythm with a finger on their hip. If they were happy to wait, why couldn't Frank? When the hunger came, when he looked up and saw that the light had faded from the sky, Frank just shrugged, shuffled forward, waited.