The car slowed to a stop. She handed over the greasy brown bag of food without a second thought. Then she saw him.
She gasped. She stumbled back. The bag slipped from her grasp, his entire order spilling onto the pavement outside her drive-thru window.
It was a human being, the first one she’d seen in ages.
In a time when people rarely venture outdoors, where they send personal androids to run errands, seeing a man unsettled her. Messy hair, three-day scruff, blood shot eyes and the overwhelming stench of body odor.
Suddenly nameless, faceless androids didn’t seem so bad.
The Weekday One Hundred 