First of all, I’m a drug addict, so I can’t take anything fun. Well, let me rephrase that. I choose not to take anything fun anymore. Because it stopped being fun. But I was already spinning from the two Tylenol PM’s I took earlier (a lightweight, I know…)when I pulled into the Barnes and Noble parking lot. Classic rock blared out of the shitty speakers of my shitty car, and I began sobbing. Over him, over her, over the new him, and the old, old her. Over everything. Bob seger has my heart. Or, at least I used to think so.. so why am I crying now?
Tear streaked and torn apart, I followed myself sloppily into the bookstore. I knew what I wanted but I didn’t know who it was by. I waited a while for the information lady to become available and while I was waiting I fantasized about working here and directing people to a second, non-existent information booth upstairs when we were really busy.
“scuze me maam, if you’d like, you can go upstairs to the other, less popular information booth”
“oh thank you”
“mmmm hmm. You know it”
I’m so sassy in my fantasies.
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