A Nap

He was right there in the street, asleep. Not on the sidewalk or just over the curb, but safely within the yellow line. His arms were under his head like a pillow, as he lay on his side, legs pulled up at right angles like he was sitting. His shoes were right on the edge of the street, neatly placed beside each other with their toes just touching the yellow line. He had taken them off with care.

A car stopped as I cautiously walked up, still wondering if he was dead. The driver got out, woke him, and pulled him groggily to the curb. The street was a fairly busy one, after all, even at 7 am: He was slowing traffic. And maybe it wasn't as safe as he had thought when he had drunkenly chosen it as his resting place.

Korean drivers love to honk, but no one honked. They waited as he found his new bed on the sidewalk. They had all been there. They knew that after a certain number of drinks, everything turns into a bed.

R