lunar eclipse

a woman came into the store this afternoon which technically was after noon but the day never felt like anything other than morning, until it was evening, like when you don't lift the blinds after you get out of bed as if you could milk the morning by refusing to open your eyes. i was sitting across the room studying a lunar atlas when she apparently began to swoon and behave irrationally but not the usual irrational behavior that we're accustomed to. i thought nothing of it at first as they, the cashier & the customer, or perhaps in another way, the man behind the counter and the woman in front of him, not touching, yet seeming to wrangle somehow, without force, lugubrious, as if he were trying to stand a deflated doll that refused to stand firm in his grasp. i saw him get on the phone, and then he mouthed to me from across the room M-O-D (manager on duty) who i immediately paged, not knowing what was happening. they immediately called back and the cashier said, paramedic, i'm calling a paramedic, which i reported to the MOD, who said he'd be right over. the woman sat down at a table to wait, muttering that she didn't want to die again, over and over, as if death could be repeated like a grade. i feel so weird when this sort of thing happens, heightened yet passive, powerless to respond and yet ready to respond. the MOD came and knelt with one knee on the smooth textured gray floor beside her, assessing what was happening and assuring her that everything would be fine. he normally has a deep bulldog bark of a voice but he almost seemed to purr when he spoke to her, though she was resolute about dying again. the paramedics came, serious burly men. i wanted them to be less clinical than they were, more tender, but a litany of emergencies probably insists on them being pragmatic, i guess. this is the second time i've watched a customer being wheeled out the door. she waved like a football player being carted off the field after a vicious hit. it's hard to be heroic when you're strapped into a gurney. the MOD walked over and stood beside me for a moment, clearly disturbed. for some reason i had a strange line from a frustrating movie stuck in my head. sometimes i say things without considering how they might be taken or even what the deeper meaning might be but just take a leap and hope it's right. and sometimes it's not. i told him it's better to be a live dog than a dead lion. he just looked at me like what the f*ck is that supposed to mean and left. i've been pondering it all evening, worried i put my foot in my mouth again. but you know, it is better to be a live dog than a dead lion. dead means end of story, no matter how beautiful, how powerful you are, and as ugly, as messed up as your life might be, you are still alive, which means the story continues, and at the very least, something could change, maybe not better, but at least it could be different.