While at Farmers Market I walked past a baklava stand on my left and a cluster of people to my right: a man, a woman and a college-age girl. Precisely at that moment the girl, phone pressed to her ear, head slightly down to try to hear better, gasped, "Oh my gosh! My mom just died."
That is one overheard conversation that definitely stands out. I kept walking but turned and watched the next few frames: the girl covering her mouth in shock, her rapid walk/exit from the market and across the creek, the man and woman's concerned expressions, the baklava vendor calling after her (she probably knew them). All this in just slightly surreal seconds.
I reached a different stand near the market exit, bought tomatoes and crossed the creek back to my car. The girl sat on the opposite bank, sobbing, phone still pressed to her ear. The man and woman were there, holding and trying to comfort her.
I tried to not stare as I got closer. I wanted to say something even though I was a stranger with no obligations. But something about being human connects you even when you are not involved or lack the same experience. I also felt a bit like George, the main reaper in "Dead Like Me." I didn't bring death with a touch and Post-It Note but did indirectly "witness" a stranger's death. It's a little disconcerting to casually see death's ripple effect.
What feels even weirder is the privacy of the actual event. It's not like it was an accident at a public place, complete with some chaos, screams and headlines. No. This was a "where" and "what" no one but people directly affected knew about, hinted at only by a brisk walk, a gasp and quiet sobs. I simply was a bystander who randomly peeked into someone's world at an odd place and time.
