Morning didn’t so much arrive as shrug
a pale sky
a breeze that smelled like hot bread and bus brakes
I turned the key and the engine cleared its throat like an old singer trying the first note
the wind chime on the mirror tapped twice
good enough

First fare waved me down with a paper crown tilted wrong
a bakery kid on break
frosting on his elbow like a medal
He said deliver this cake to a pop up wedding in a park
no license no priest just courage
We drove slow
I watched the white box wobble in the mirror like a breath held too long
At the park a circle of friends waited with thrift store chairs and a bluetooth speaker that kept losing faith
They cheered when the cake landed safe
The kid handed me a spare paper crown
wear it for luck he said
I wore it as far as the next red light where a bus driver saluted and grinned

Second call from a corner store that sold ice and opinions
a man in a neon vest carried a stop sign on a stick
school crossing he said
the district van broke and the kids still need a river to cross
Take me three blocks then wait
I became a shuttle for a walking bridge
He stepped out
lifted the sign
and the small parade began
laces untied
backpacks bigger than plans
He whistled a tune that sounded like rubber soles and cereal
After two runs he paid me in quarters and an orange peel spiral
said it keeps evil from the glove box
I believed him because his whistle never missed

The next ping came from a guitar shop that smelled like cedar and almost famous
a woman in a denim jacket hugged a case that had collected airports and stickers
She said studio on Santa Monica and please do not ask about the tour
We drove through a slab of noon light
She stared out the window like a person reading a screen only she could see
At a red she said I keep trying to write a happy song that doesn’t lie
I said maybe write a true one and let it smile later
She nodded once
At the curb she left a pick in the tray
thin and green
good for soft truths she said

A lull after that
I parked near a barber who swept the same square of sidewalk like it owed him money
Two pigeons argued over a french fry and both lost to a small dog named Miracle
I ate a street mango sprinkled with chili
remembered that tongues have maps too

A call from a thrift store drop off
a woman carried three frames with no pictures
She said I keep the empties in case I meet new memories
Take me to my sister’s place
We drove past a mural of a swimmer painted on a brick wall
the swimmer’s mouth open like he was singing to bricks
She said our mother loved frames
said a house needs borders and excuses
At the curb she paid in crumpled fives and left one empty frame behind
for whatever happens next she said

Then a courier with rush energy and scuffed shoes
he jammed a bubble mailer into the cup holder
spoke in addresses and shortcuts
We flew four blocks and stopped hard
He grabbed the envelope but left a sticker sheet that read fragile like a friendly threat
Take it
the world listens when you label it he said

Near the river an old man waved me down with a folded lawn chair
He said free concert
He was the concert
a harmonica and a memory of bigger crowds
We parked by a shade tree and he played slow and bright and sometimes crooked
People walking dogs and errands stopped for the chorus parts
He said every river needs a tune to keep it from thinking too hard
He tipped me a bottle of water and a nod that felt like permission

A college kid flagged me with a cardboard periscope
art class he said
the assignment is to see without being seen
He peeked through the tube the whole ride
reading the city sideways
He said people walk braver when they think nobody is looking
At the studio he left me a folded zine called crosswalk choir
inside were drawings of feet waiting at lights
half dancing
half deciding

The meter kept a steady whisper
the kind that sounds like grease and patience
I picked up twins who refuse to admit it
each claimed to be older by six minutes
They wanted the same coffee from different doors of the same shop
They argued about the best exit from the freeway like it was religion
At drop off they paid with a single twenty and told me to split the change between my better angels

Midafternoon drifted in with small heat
I stopped for gas and a man selling windshield shades talked me into one printed like a giant sleeping cat
He said thieves avoid big animals and naps
I said I would try anything that chases heat and trouble
The shade made the cab look like it dreamed responsibly

A florist called for a ride to the ferry terminal with a bouquet of weeds and wild things
She said people forget the city has survivors that bloom without permission
The bouquet smelled like alleys after rain and good gossip
At the dock she gave me a button that read grow anyway
I pinned it to the paper crown and the metals did not argue

Then came the kid from earlier days
the one who returns screws and buttons to the lost and found
He had a jar again
today full of keys
tiny ones for diaries
thick ones for maybe storage units and promises
Transit hub he said
We drove while he sorted them by the sound they made
bright
dull
homesick
At the counter the clerk stamped his card citizen again and gave him a cookie
He broke it and handed me half
The fortune read an answer is hiding in your pocket
I checked
just lint and the green pick
which is not nothing

The sun leaned toward softer
Shadows longer than honesty
I picked up a dad and his kid with a kite shaped like a shark
We went to a school field that holds wind like a pitcher holds water
The shark rose and dragged the string
the kid yelled do not let go
the dad yelled back never
I believed both of them for a whole minute and it felt clean

Last run of the light
a choir girl with a throat lozenge and shoes that pinched
church basement she said
We got stuck at a long crosswalk where the signal button had been pressed by everyone and obeyed by no one
She started a tiny humming to keep her nerves from spilling
I joined without meaning to
two notes
three
The people on both corners picked it up
A bicycle bell joined
someone clapped wrong and confidently
When the walking man finally blinked on we moved like a small parade with no reason except sound
At the church door she said that was the best rehearsal

I parked under a sky turning peach
counted the day
paper crown
empty frame
fragile sticker
sleeping cat shade
grow anyway pin
fortune scrap folded twice
green pick waiting for soft truths
The wind chime was quiet but the car felt full of tiny chords

The meter blinked zero
not a warning
an invitation
I turned the key and let the evening come in carrying its own sheet music
somewhere a bus sighed
somewhere a crosswalk hummed for no reason
and I went where the notes waved me through