Harold Dernwert

   Harold Dernwert is the name of the man who sat across from me on the subway. I know this because it is fiction that I made up. On his face he wore rectangular glasses. On his feet he wore rounded white Sketchers sneakers with white laces and white sport socks, though he did not look like he was going to or from sporting. On his body he wore a purple- I'm guessing cotton- polo paired with khaki shorts. The shorts were the kind with lots of pockets, the outdoorsman's equivalent of a purse.
   I sat across from him for the duration of three stops between when he sat down across from me to when I got off at my destination. He stepped onto the train while eating a bag of Doritos, I am not sure what kind. They were in a yellowish bag which might indicate Fiery Habanero or Toasted Corn flavour; we will never know for sure. He was mostly finished the Frito-Lay treat upon seating himself, and promptly crumpled the bag replacing it in the plastic bag (origin unknown) from whence it came. Harold then pulled a lemon Perrier from the bag, unscrewing the cap with some difficulty. He carefully licked the presumably spilled drink off his left hand in a publicly-appropriate manner before proceeding to drink the beverage.
   I was surprised by the speed at which he drank the lemon Perrier. Its true that it was a hot day today, but the man nearly chugged the entire bottle in one gulp so that the green plastic imploded in his hand by the power of suction. He sat holding the half finished Perrier, his legs crossed, holding the crumpled plastic back on his lap on top of the black satchel he carried with him when I exited the train. This was the last I would see of Mr. Dernwert. So many questions remain. So little we know of this man, and yet so much we learn from this one encounter.