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dark green mold

1. I left secret motel this morning to walk two blocks and purchase a newspaper. Walking back to my room, I thought about all the healthy and alive people out doing things on this unusually bright and warm Saturday in January. They are using this time to improve their lives, to elevate themselves. Or they are meeting with loved ones to eat breakfast in small eateries that are crowded with others. And I creep alone behind my sunglasses through the dark green mold of my life, to slip unseen back into my hidden life. I read the paper and listen to the radio and drink myself into the dusty carpet. Year after year. I will be done before this is done.

2. I had a nice interaction with the lovely cashier at Safeway last night. I addressed her by her name. She seemed a little surprised and--I hope--pleased. I wonder what her life is like. I wonder what she does when she is not working. I wonder how she dresses when she is not dressed for work. And I wonder if she thinks my polite behavior is weird or charming. Or maybe she makes no note of it at all and does not remember me from all the other times I have passed through her check-out lane.

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