Wednesday, October 31st, 2007: Close to the large park in the center of the city sits a coffee shop; part of a large and global chain, the name of which shall remain nameless, if that makes sense. Let’s just say that the name of the coffee shop does not include the names, Tim, Timothy, and it may be first among coffee shops, but it’s not the Second.
I was sitting at a table in the window, looking out across the intersection towards the park. Off in the distance I noticed an adult man walking with a small little girl. From head to toe, she was wearing pink. Something puffy on top and blowing flouncy on the bottom. Looking at her, I tried desperately to figure out what kind of costume she was wearing. All I could think of was the fact that, as far as I was concerned, she was wearing a really ugly get-up. I gave up and went back to reading the newspaper.
About five minutes later, I looked out the window again and noticed that the man and girl were crossing the street directly across from the coffee shop.
Yes, it was an older man. No, it was not a little girl in some sort of weird and pink costume. It was, in fact, a woman suffering from autism. She was quite possibly in her late 20s, there was a very good chance that she was the older man’s daughter, and what I assumed was a stupid, ugly, and not terribly convincing costume was, in fact, nothing more than a display of this young woman’s penchant for the colour pink.
I suddenly felt horrible. Yet I still couldn’t help laughing which made me feel even worse.
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