“Is that your phone?”

“Yeah.”

“You have a pink phone?”

“Mmhm.”

“Is it, like, your girlfriend’s phone?”"

“Nope.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup.”

Found in a dining hall, on a piece of paper shoved into a napkin dispenser:

“Students! Rise up! Class riot today, 3:00 in the courtyard. Refreshments will be served.”

Two in the morning – a pair of legs is poking out of a broken window. Two guys in striped hipster hoodies are standing nearby, craning their necks to look in.

“No, no,” say the legs. “This isn’t going to work. I’ll still be locked out, I’ll just be locked out inside.”

Ten or so sweaty people in t-shirts and tank tops are clustered around a cooler. One guy lifts the top off the cooler and dumps some colored powder in.

“What was that?” asks one, confused.

“Nothing,” says the dumper. “Just drink the Kool-aid.”

There’s a commotion outside, in the hallway. I poke my head out. A man is sprinting down the hallway with his sweater unzipped, a rhinestone necklace bouncing on his exposed chest hair, and his mouth wrapped tightly around a beer bottle.

Men sit around a crowded table, eating lunch. One of them reaches for a newspaper.

“Dude,” asks the guy next to him. “Why you frontin’ like you can read?”

Nobody laughs.

On my way to work, feeling dejected. I am stopped by a man.

“Excuse me, sir, do you have the time?”

“Uh, um,” I stutter, looking for my cell phone.

“You see,” he says, smiling conspiratorily, “My watch stopped.”

He rolls up his sleeve, and there’s a watch tattooed on his wrist. I grin.

“Thanks for the smile,” he says, and leaves.

Two polo-shirted bros are eating together.

“Wait, dude, hold up. You got an eyelash.”

He leans forward and plucks something from the other’s face. He holds it up.

“Hey,” he says. “Make a wish.”

[photo from www.roadfood.com]