people_watching tender_square nacho man ate from a contraption where his chips nestled in a container attached to the top of his drinking cup, a straw extending through the center’s added height. he picked at a tiny cup of jalapeno’s with thick fingers, eating them raw. he thumbed his phone, reading a text message. the chain had begun with a live photo of the puck drop he’d sent. the person wrote a garbled message in return: “i don’t believe you’re collage college hockey, you’ve had too much vodka.” i watched from over his shoulder as his salty skin hovered above the keys, deciphering or deciding. he sent: “no, not enough vodka,” and silently chuckled to himself, licking his glistening fingers. he left after the first period, but his garbage stayed on the bleacher witnessing the rest of the game. pink nails pulled her face to her phone and squinted through bifocals. her one-inch fingernails curved into cracking talons and she pecked slowly at each key, watching the predictive text offer suggestions. twenty words of reply took twenty minutes to type. she saved the contact as “doug at the lake” in her phone. she opened up a photograph someone sent to her of a young couple holding hands, their backs to the camera as they smiled over their shoulders, and she zoomed in on their buttocks and nudged her husband to look. she was trying to make out what was held in their pockets, for some strange reason or another. and why this was more exciting than witnessing men speed skate on thin blades slapping sticks and shoving into the boards was beyond my comprehension. 221015 what's it to you? who go blather from