12:15 a.m. - Friday, May. 28, 2010
Broken Mirror
It was warm. I ran three miles this morning. We were having sandwiches for lunch. I feel powerful after I run. Like I can do anything. I went ahead to the deli while he stayed behind to shower. I entered the store and propped my sunglasses on top of my head. I was heading for the case of sodas when I saw him. Shit. He saw me, too. Damn it. "Hello," I said with a smile. Really? You don't have to be nice to this loser. "What, not working today?" "Not until four," I answered. He muttered something about bankers' hours . . .some kind of joke . . .He was heading for the newspapers. I hid behind the display of cream cheeses. I didn't want to be in line next to him. That stench. That greasy hair. Knowing what he did to those animals. I jumped as he rounded the corner and bumped into me . . .hiding there like the pansy I am. So obvious. "Yeah . . .those bankers' hours . . ." he said again. He said my name. I wanted to throw up to hear my name on his dirty lips.
I want to throw up now. Such a thin line between fantasy and reality. Who am I? Where do I end? Where does this begin? What's real? Am I broken? Can I be fixed?
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