Two Roads Diverged in a Wood

I've been keeping an eagle eye on the bathtub. I check it several times a day, as if with a magnifying glass, prepared to scrub and disinfect at the first speck of dirt. Of course, it hasn't been two full days since I cleaned it so there's been no dirt to be found.

This morning, as I left the apartment, my housemate was already scrubbing the bathtub with a sponge.

Yesterday, on the way home, my bus passed a group of three girls on a bridge, posing for a photograph. Just as the camera was about to flash, one of the girls laughed and held out her hand to stop the photo, reaching up with her other hand and sliding her sunglasses to the top of her head. As the bus rolled away, it struck me that for the rest of her life, every time she looks at that photo of herself in Paris, her sunglasses will be on top of her head.

I don't know why that thought occurred to me but I couldn't stop thinking about it the whole way home.