Nice coconut, you said, and rode off on a yellow bicycle

I was crossing the road in Aldea Zama on a Wednesday morning, holding a coconut with a straw and trying not to spill it. You rode past on a yellow bicycle and said, nice coconut. Just that. I said, thanks. You laughed and turned the corner. It is a small thing, but nobody had said anything nice about my choices for days. I have bought a coconut every morning since. Nobody has said anything. I have started to say it to myself.