Taking Time For Daily Cheese

I awoke late in the day with the word sardonic in my head. I wasn't sure what it meant, but I wanted to use it properly in a sentence by the end of the day.

I had to ride the train down to the city. My iPod had just died, and the train was surprisingly noisy. More people were talking then usual; more cell phones and loud walking. I spent the ride staring at an old man. By his movements he appeared blind, yet he was shuffling a deck of cards. I got off the train feeling irritated.

Downtown was usual—windy. People and cars rush as quickly as the wind. What I despise most about the city is the fact you can go from smelling a fine restaurant to moldy trash in seconds. But I do enjoy the energy, like concentrated life. The scene makes me feel like I'm doing something.

I always walk by dancers from the university, and every time I expect them to spontaneously dance. Sometimes I worry the guys will see me checking them out, which inevitably happens while checking out the girls. I'm confused why they never have jackets on when it's so cold. They must really work up a sweat in class.

I finished up my downtown business and went home. I was trying to remember this kid from high school's name. Then I thought of his nickname, and blurted it out, “Bloody Tamponce.” I laughed out loud and some lady glared at me. She had a mustache.