I have not been writing. I’m split, and neither of my two halves have found peace. That’s alright, though it’s frustrating. I’ve been too afraid to read books. This morning stretched into afternoon, and I have done nothing here. I want to leave, but there is nowhere to go.
Sitting across from me: the cold mist of a dying April. Cars waiting on the street.
I’m only 25. But these kids working at Starbucks are younger than I’ve ever seen. The pale one that served me is as thin as a maple sapling.
One has age on him. And in five years when I return and find his double working here I’ll have something to say about him, too.
A grown man indifferently picks through a basket of chips. He doesn’t find anything he likes.
An older couple who can hardly stand to look at each other. Pain in the nod of the woman’s head. Acquiesence can be more alienating than disagreement.