Mood swings

As I was leaving the supermarket with my quartered cut watermelon and pack of gyoza, I saw the most fantastic sight. A tiny Japanese grandma smiling into space. If I were her grandchild, I may have believed myself to be in an anime cartoon. It was almost as if I could see the twinkle lines on the side of her cheek. She had her soft white hands folded and relaxed just beneath her tummy. By my estimation, I'd say she weighed about 80 pounds. I only mention weight as a way to describe how small and light she appeared to be, about the size of a 9 year old. Something about her was much more innocent than the sleeping infant I had passed in his mother's arms only minutes before. As I relished the few seconds I spent staring at her, I admired her soft-apron dress whose fabric appeared to have softened after hundreds of washing cycles and balcony line dries. A swish of emotion stirred inside me but quickly settled. I stopped my thoughts before they became a catalyst of embarrassment. I had begun to imagine how nice it would feel to bring my head to her chest and feel her wrinkled arms around my shoulders, as I closed my eyes and weeped. At that moment, there at the supermarket, across from the ridiculously expensive loquats, I was the saddest I had been in a very long time. And upon realizing this, I allowed my imagination a quick little swing through its playground. I imagined what would happen if I were to go up to this tiny octogenerian, crouched down and put my head to her heart and my arms around her waist. I imagined her scream, her face, her confusion, her fear and I laughed. I LOL. Suddenly my sadness had vanished, and all that replaced it was a minor afterthought before I opened my umbrella and mounted my bike. They must think I'm fucking insane.