06 September 2004


Everywhere I went today, someone asked me what was wrong. Truth is, I don’t know. Nothing really, everything. You’re not yourself, she said. How’s that possible? Myself, whoever that is, is impossible to escape. It was just one of those days. A frozen-mocha- with-so-much- whipped-cream- you-have-to- take-the-top- to-go day. The coffee shop girl always knows what kind of day it is before I do. Hope this helps, she said. And it did.

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