What limited human interaction I have today occurs only at the grocery store, and I'm not sure how I feel about that.
The older guy next to me at the self-checkout terminals leaves a fraction of a second before I do, and so I'm stuck behind him as he shuffles to the door. He barely picks up his feet when he walks, and though I'm tempted to try to dive around him and bolt out the door, I follow his lead, swallowing the scream of impatience choking in my throat, until finally, after an eternity watching him work out the mechanics of upright ambulation, we get outside, first him, then me tumbling after, and I practically sprint down the street toward home.
The glow of the moon lights up the sky as it begins to rise, ever so slowly, from behind the apartment building on the other side of the street.
One year ago: Time Flows Around Us
Two years ago: New York Is Burning
Three years ago: Just Missed It
Four years ago: I Guess I Don't Either
Six years ago: She Who Is Not Busy Eating 9-Lives Is Busy Dying
Seven years ago: Acting Out (Staying In)
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