Maybe you should email him, had said the woman.

She was right. I had tried that. I haven’t heard back from him though, at least not since his return from New York. Maybe he called Strand. Maybe they’d given me a bad wrap. The steel shop maw enclosing. How many days before my dad finds someone who says, you know what, Compacho… I’ll give your son a chance.

I was kind of rude when I went in. I didn’t mean to be. Ol’ big boy wasn’t there. He’d marked his calendar as ‘out’ for the day. I was talking to a woman and a couple of dudes – one bearded and one black.

With red eyes and shaking limbs, I’d asked them, my parents whom I had only just the day before asked to be recommended to their friends, if they thought the dog was okay, just only a few hours after my mom had gone out and bought a carpet cleaner while I was buying Resolve at the grocery store that I used to work at; the one where I dressed as a hippo, and my parents recognized me by the big brown Doc Martins that they had gotten me as a Christmas present. They had these huge rubber soles. Looked like they were made of amber. I didn’t have my heels back then. My Salt City stompers. As if I thought I was man enough to wear them. What with my pocketed roses and Kamel Cigarettes.

Let’s just pretend that I haven’t had my first coffee yet. I had to get this one to keep me from falling asleep on the road, and to give me the energy required to submit to a couple of places. I also deposited the accountant’s check. It’s been my responsibility from the get go. The task is now complete.

I was so close to the Roasting co, that I just couldn’t accept the coffee that was being offered freely from the bank. I had to walk over, and guess who I found: the mole cheek blondie. She smiled at me, and I totally forgot that I look different from when I met her the time before.

Is this a crush? Some crises that I’m having on the eve of my thirtieth and a vagina looking to develop.

Alright. You can play. Says my inner voice. Just be safe.

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