Every week, I visit my neighborhood compost drop-off. But this week… was different. 

As I entered the Brookland farmers market, I saw you from afar approaching the food waste drop-off tent. Your eyes sparkled, and I could smell the moldy vegetable matter from your compost bucket from down the block.

I caught up to you while you were deftly using a spatula to scrape the remnants of a vegan burrito into the bin, arms glistening in the sun as the odors of the compost rose through your tousled curls.

“You need the scraper?” you asked, reading my mind. 

“Yeah, I have a load of sticky eggshells to dump.” I responded. We made eye contact as our fingers brushed together when you handed me the tool. 

Were those sparks flying or just gnats? 

As I poured my rancid sludge on top of yours, a million questions for you raced through my mind. But when I looked up again, you were gone.

I’d love to take you out sometime, perhaps to visit the DC Wastewater treatment plant or dumpster diving in AdMo? 

You: Late 20s, sandy blonde hair pulled back in a loose bun

Me: Early 30s, stained City Sports t-shirt from 2009, rubber gloves

If this was you, email cherryswampdc@gmail.com to make the connection.