Mario Villalobos

At the post office


  • Journal

On my walk, I stood by the street corner on Main St. and waited for a car to drive by before I crossed the street. A man in the backseat stared at me as they drove by. He wore dark shades and had the car window rolled down halfway. I half expected him to say something, but he didn’t. I crossed the street and kept walking. As I stuffed a package into the blue collection box, I watched another man drive by and park his car near me. He said, “I never realized you could stuff a package into the back of those things.” “Yeah, me neither,” I said. “But it’s pretty cool that you can.” I didn’t know what else to say. We nodded and went on our way. On my way home, I waited at a different street corner and waited for a different car to drive by. This time, the driver stared at me as he drove by, and as I began to cross the street, the man did a U-Turn and parked across the street. We locked eyes for a moment, and when I realized he was dropping a friend off, I walked away. After arriving home, I thought that was the weirdest walk I’ve had yet. And I want to do it again.