The Difficulties of Decision-Making, part. 1

A bus drove past slowly and he decided then to be clearer, more concise in his decision-making.  This was the first step, of course, this fledgling decision.  Fledgling, he thought, like a bird with new wings, good wings that would not be damaged, even in the act of mistaking a reflective storefront window for the infinity that is the sky.  

He thought about how he could take small mental steps, and how these steps would be used to build a mental staircase that would help him to reach new heights of clarity in thought.  One step at a time, he thought.  Now, walk deliberately back to the bus stop and catch the next bus, because your bus just drove away slowly and you were certainly not on that bus and you needed to be on that bus.  This is what he was thinking at that moment, but at the next moment, this goal became somewhat lost in lieu of a new thought: rating the quality of brands of paper towels based on their absorbency, like in the white lab coat commercials on TV.  This thought brought him away from the bus stop bench, and into the grocery store on the lot adjacent to the bus stop.  He thought briefly about how the bus would be seen pulling up from the windows of the grocery store, a brief nod to his previous goal.  He was elaborating, multi-tasking, getting so much done!  Do one thing while waiting for something else to happen, what an idea!  He remembered something about this idea that wasn't sound, a freezer door that wouldn't suction correctly, and all of the thoughts and cold air inside that freezer were escaping.  

The doors of the grocery store parted without being prompted, and like an opium king, he stepped inside, dazed and with a slight sense of self-importance.  Cold air hit his face with surprising force, and he felt his own hair in a very distinct way.  The paper towels were in the front, capping an aisle, on sale, with four different varieties to choose from.  He approached them like E.T. brandishing his index finger as the scientific standard for paper towel absorbency testing.  He used his mighty finger to stretch small holes in the plastic.

One, stretch, rip, rough, diamond patterns, deeply perforated, too deep, the liquid would run into the ravines and escape from the other side.

Two, stretch, rip, too soft, nice colors, but with illustrations of women sewing invisible garments in the rain.  

Three, stretch, rip, poke.  So thick, like a tee-shirt that's been washed for years and is now sitting in the garage soaked in oil and stuck with sawdust. 

Four, stretch, rip, feel, caress, smooth, lackluster, a hybrid of old computer paper and wispy tissues with pointless ridges riding the curved wave of the cylinder.

Out the windows, behind him, the bus pulled up quietly to the stop, opened it's doors, saw no passengers, and pulled away leisurely, leaving him in the cold grocery store, poking paper towels with his index finger.