A moment this morning in bed. No movement but my heartbeat. My pulse beating against the fabric near my right ear. The sound of my heartbeat adding a tune to the pulse of the city outside the window.
Walking to the F Train/Tram with my bags to go down to Fisherman's Wharf. Just a little to late to catch it. Or so I thought. The train sits as I approach. "Are you going to Fisherman's Wharf?" Conductor, with a smile: "I'd better be. I waited here long enough for you."
On the tram with my big rolling duffel that is falling apart not so slowly any more. Man across the aisle: "that's a terribly large bag". Yes it is.