I met Victor when I lost my hat.
I met Robert the Original when I gave up my search for a bagel shop.
I saw the sky through my eyelids as the warm, late November sun burned down on them as I laid in the grass.
From the back, Robert is a woman. Big white perm, perfectly fluffed and spun. From the front, well that’s a bit different. He’s a woman with a mustache. Or a man with a perm. The broad insensitive categories our minds jump to in trying to quickly analyze our surroundings.