The pleasures of a walk home on a cool summer night are lost on me as I ruminate about my future. I don’t notice the soft scent of jasmine, because I am worried I might be making a mistake in thinking about changing roles. I neglect the shimmering street lights reflected in the puddles in the street as they are stirred by gentle breezes, because shadows of my past rear up to frighten me with memories of times I was not so skilled or smart.
Then, crossing from one corner to another, I realize that, yet again, I’m actually just kind of hungry, and all my worries disappear like nighttime scary monsters in my childhood bedroom that turn out to be some clothes on a chair when the morning comes.
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