A crazy guy just wandered into the shop. I knew he was crazy by two quick tells, his dense canopy of eyebrows offered enough shade for all the ants in ocean beach and second, he entered the store mid conversation with himself about raspberries. We were two feet away and he noticed me and my goddamn ears and decided to just fire fast lunacy at me. I was good for the first three minutes. I just looked at my phone, he can't engage me if I just stare into the void of instagram. Oh nice, heather had a salad, Trent went somewhere pretty, just keep staring, just keep staring, oh that persons a vegan, hey, a child I don't know. The combination of my ruined attention span, that I literally get distracted from distractions, coupled with my utter humanness and the difficulty of ignoring a person speaking directly to you, I folded. I made eye contact. The last line of defense in the battle against crazy customers. He belabored me with words I recognized but in an order utterly unfamiliar, intoned them as if they were questions. I had no answers for him. Just a fascination with the feral abandon of his eyebrows, the last stretch of untamed wilderness of the California coast.