TODAY, RIGHT NOW

Clouds dominate the landscape, unfriendly, detached. Traffic is running medium-light, with no major delays, no serious accidents. No severe weather is expected through the weekend. The radio says, “Experience a new kind of clean.” Someone’s starting their day with deep knee-bends and controlled breathing. A foreign government shuttles military personnel in covered trucks. The television mentions escalating tensions, then goes into an explanation of the Chinese New Year. An old woman in a flower-print dress surveys her winter lawn, unconvinced the tulips will ever come up again. The president says “Responsibility” as the camera scans the misty-eyed crowd. Wedding vows are carefully recited. A professor loses his train of thought in the middle of a lecture on the proliferation of modern farming techniques. Milk rings up $2.99, with a soft beep. The news anchor advises, “Take some extra precautions.” In the courtyard of a hospital, the top cardiologist maintains a necessary distance from pictures under his bed in a shoebox. The president can be heard saying, “We, as a people,” and, “These aggressors,” as the crowd surges to its feet in applause. Seventy pounds of hamburger meat ship to a restaurant right on time, as a woman on the radio in the kitchen responds to a caller, “Isn’t this, ladies and gentlemen, what we’re all dying for today, right now?”