Thursday, March 18, 2004
Portent(?)
Today I stopped by the grocery store on my way to work. It was mostly empty, aside from a few chipper (and otherwise) employees. After handing me my ten dollars cash back, the pudgy, middle aged cash register jockey said unto me:
"Don't get blown away out there, beware the Ides of March."
She then walked away and disappeared behind a rack of chocolate cakes.
I felt like a razor sharp icicle scratched down my spine and stood dumbly next to the pastel toys imprisoned in the claw machine. Outside, the wind blew the new leaves on the trees into a frenzy, and covered the streets with thousands of dead cherry flowers. Surely she only meant be careful of the strong wind when she said 'blown away'... and it was March, and the Ides of March naturally fell sometime around now, could even be today.
I walked to my car, my hair whipped around my face. I could dismiss her warning, but that had been Caesar's mistake. I drew my jacket closer to my body and hunched my shoulders, noting with a wary eye, the black clouds rolling in from the west.
