We end up going to the post-office anyways.

We bring Charleston. I stay with him while Musette is inside.

I sit on a planter and read The Wind Up Bird Chronicle.

A man approaches. He has money in his hand. He asks if I can break a twenty for him. I tell him I have no cash.

He asks if he can use my phone. I tell him I never let anyone use my phone.

“Everyone’s like that these days.” he says

“There is a lot of personal information on phones.” I say.

He asks if he can use it if I dial the number and put the phone on speaker.

“You can hold it the whole time.” he says.

“I guess I could do that for you.” I say.

He gives me a number. I dial. Someone picks up. The two have a short conversation about meeting at the post office and the call ends.

I am impressed because he knew how to let me help him.

He remains sitting next to me after the call has ended, asking if I am just hanging out or waiting for someone.

“I am waiting for someone.” I say.

He asks if I am waiting for drugs, but I think he asks: “Do you know a safe place to do drugs?”

I list a few places I might do drugs if I were homeless.

“No .” He says. “Are you waiting for drugs? It’s not that you look like the type or anything, it’s just, most people who sit here are waiting for drugs. “

Musette comes out.

“Actually I am waiting for her.” I say, standing.


She doesn’t ask about the man, even though I can tell she noticed him. I don’t say goodbye to him. And when we get home I brush Charleston’s teeth because the man had boils all over his knuckles and I am worried Charleston may have licked them.


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