I am confident that tonight, I am the only customer here.
The soft whine of floor cleaners. Every lantern shut above every register. Even so, these aisles are comfortable. I move from mouthwash to toothpaste and wonder what they think, the few working tonight in their green uniforms: What is this girl looking for? Then: Where is she going?
Afterwards I dreamt of driving down a road without dotted yellows. Reeds lined the pavement and the fog and rain made headlights useless. I kept going, hoping nobody would come from the other direction.
Then something happened. The fog cleared. The rain came down more distinctly and the wipers worked to clear it away. But I could see the road now. I could see everything.
Read today about Oktoberfest: "refined bitterness"
#261: Thompson Square, "I Got You"