Wednesday afternoon.

I'm walking down Main, headed towards 4th Street so I can catch the 40 bus home.

My day had been pretty anti-climactic and relatively drama-free.
Not even one good shoot-em-up.
And I guess, accordingly, I was feeling pretty blah. I was mildly under-anxious with the sentiment of being neither extremely inconsequential or rife with purpose.

So I'm passing 6th and this older Rasta cat is walking down Main, in the other direction. He looks at me and says, in a very friendly, booming voice: "NICENESSSSSS...You are pure NICENESS."

Well, I'll be. No one's ever rolled out such a compliment that surprisingly, had the capacity to make a girl's day quite like that. I didn't even say anything, I just kept walking while this goofy ass grin slapped itself across my face. He smiled back, told me I was quite welcome, and proceeded to stroll on by and out into the ether.

And with that, my day completely did a 180.
Because that was the day I met. The King of Awesome.