Thursday, June 17, 2004

exercise in fictional perspective

I don’t want to be here. Neither does my car. Turn the key to turn off the car and it responds with exactly how I feel. It struggles and tries to keep going. Neither of us want to be here but we are here. I fondle my keys gently pondering if I should even bother getting out. I could start up the car and just drive and forget what happened. I could so a long of things but I know regret and the fear of it will drag me inside. I might as well get this over with. Pulling myself out of the car takes up more energy than it should. I close the door with a promise to come back and head inside the coffee shop.

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