His suit itches.

The last person who called in to this radio show was sorely misinformed about the current debate over temporary immigration for skilled overseas workers.

He had an argument with his wife recently.

Or girlfriend.

Or husband! God, what does it say about me that I didn’t consider that right off the bat?

He just watched a Sofia Coppola film and feels that, while her skills with pacing and characterization are undeniable, she continually displays a subtle but mean-spirited condemnation of life styles she doesn’t directly subscribe to.

We’re in a Toyota Prius. Obviously not anyone’s first choice.

Someone just requested a trip and then cancelled. We’ve got places to be!

By the end of the century, scientists reasonably predict that the Atlantic Ocean will have risen six to ten feet above its current level, causing untold damage all along the Eastern Seaboard. Countless industries would be adversely affected, if not ruined. The economy may collapse, perhaps irrevocably. The city of Miami, home to nearly half a million Americans, could potentially be submerged under several feet of water. The city as we know it might become but a ghostly echo of its past self, a mere monument to nature’s cruel dominance over us all.

Maybe his favorite pastry place is in Miami.

I feel like I glossed over the suit before. Maybe it’s not only itchy, but also indicates that he’s on his way in to work. On a weekend! Ugh!

An animal he loved died.

An animal he hates remains alive and well.

That radio station from before is now playing the hottest club anthems of 2012.

The fact that we went twelve blocks out of our way to pick up a man and his pubescent son, who is now eating an orange.

The fact that Uber Pool is a terrible, terrible idea. No reduced fare is worth this Sisyphean nightmare. This endless carnival of wandering strangers. This ever-shifting, labyrinthine route to a Bed Bath & Beyond that was a seventeen-minute walk away, at most.

The fact that this car smells like oranges, which I hate, and it’s too cold to roll down the window.

Another pickup? Where are we going to put her?

The innate dissonance between human intentions and actions, which all too often leads us to hurt the people we care the most about. Love in all its forms cannot exist without tragedy.

Maybe he just has one of those faces. He might be totally fine. Happy, even. Who am I to judge? If I made that assumption the moment I saw him, just imagine the kinds of interactions that he must have every single day. Very sad to think about.

Kid’s still eating that goddamn orange.

The fact that I should probably be paying more attention to the road.