On my way to the gyro food truck tonight, I passed by the elderly people who convene at the tables on the landing and realized I always eat at the same time they do. I wondered how many people my age live in my building. While I was waiting for my order at the food truck, a guy walked up and asked the owner how much he charged for drinks. The owner told him $2 and I was worried he was going to let the guy go ahead of me. The guy asked for a Diet Coke and put his cash between the row of drinks and the edge of the window. I stared at the money, hoping the owner wouldn’t touch it before he finished making and wrapping up my gyro. To my relief, he passed me my food and took my card. The drink guy pointed to his money again and said “It’s right there, in case you didn’t see it.” The owner handed him the drink and he walked away. I told the owner that the drinks in the vending machine inside are only $1.50, so it was neat that the guy bought one from the food truck. On the way back to my apartment, I texted as I walked down the hallway. Every time I looked up, I felt further away from my door than it seemed like I should be. I kept looking down to text and then looking back up, expecting to be closer than I was. It made me very anxious.