Afternoon mornings on State Street

I ate breakfast at 3pm when I worked in the North Loop. I worked at a nice clean diner til 1am every shift. After work I took the red line subway north to the purple line rail through Evanston to Davis. I waited naively/confidently for a cab to take me to my friends house where I would sleep on the floor til late the next morning or early afternoon. The cabs were green. I always asked the driver to wait til I was inside the 2nd floor back door. Sometimes I shared the ride with a young man whose name I wish I remembered. He felt protective since I lived in a rough neighborhood. We became friends. We’d go out before work or on off days, to the pier, or just to walk downtown talking life. He felt there must be some way out, some way to make it as an adult, but his hope was full of doubt. I always felt peaceful with him.
Anyway, on to less interesting memories. I ate breakfast at a carryout hamburger joint around the corner from the diner I would later work at for 8 hours serving soup, salad, pancakes and Greek chicken. For breakfast I almost always ordered an omelet with sausage and cheese with hash browns and wheat toast. I particularly liked jelly on my egg dish, spread on evenly. This is where I was quiet. My book, a crossword, anonymity, people all around quickly accomplishing more than I could fathom. They all walked by the wall sized window so fast, so purposeful. When I was on the street, going to the places I went, I ambled. I looked at the cars passing by. I looked at the sky, the store windows. I remember the huffs of impatience behind me right before some determined pedestrian blew past.
I was a regular at that burger joint. I liked being recognized but not known. This made my late breakfast kinder as I wasn’t much interested in being known just then.