Eclipse

I didn't know where to find the eclipse, so I walked up the hill. Up seemed like the right choice.

I thought I saw it, but wasn't quite sure. A sliver seemed to be moving and maybe a little too bright.

I stopped by someone's gate for a while. A truck pulled up, lights blazing, and a repair guy got out and asked if I lived there. I said no and left while he was inside. It's no good watching a maybe-eclipse with too much electric company.

I was on the way down, looking out over the poster city, when something dark caught my eye up and to the right.

And there it was, the clouded outline, undoubtedly. I stopped next to a garage this time.

Just then, a man strode purposefully up the hill. He had ginger hair and wore a suit and an overcoat and white earbuds. He pulled one out and asked, midstride, "Is that the lunar eclipse?" Nod. "Thanks." He put the earbud back in and never stopped moving, like he'd been conducting a routine business transaction. Maybe he just wanted to say he'd seen it? Or seen someone who'd seen it.

Here's what I learned:

No matter where I am or what I'm doing or how little I know, people will ask me for directions.

I wish I had a better sense of direction.