Supermarket

    The general pulse that pervades in a supermarket is a good sign that life endures and goes on...But with the exception of some people that work in the store and I occasionally see, there are always different people that walk here when I do. I have no way to know when somebody has departed our world,  and she or he will never come back to the supermarket.

    I wait in line to get to the cashier. I hate the feeling of getting bored, so I look around. The man that is ready to pay at the next cashier is extremely skinny for his height. He stands out because most of the people nowadays are overweight or obese.

    He is so skinny that--I have to confess--he would make a good model for the study of bones, how they connect...the intricacy of each articulation. (If, by any chance, one might want to get into da Vinci's mindset... ) I only have a back view of him, and his bare upper arms and elbows are so fleshless that I can easily distinguish how the humerus connects with radius and ulna. 

    Perhaps a man of the street...He has a ragged appearance, with some jeans kept in place by a belt that cinch his waist right at the thinnest point, like a woman who would wear a fancy accessory to specifically mark that area. But his thorax expands abnormally with every inspiration that I feel that such ample movement when breathing is not right, and he may not have much time left...