bubbles.

I went to Weaver Street to have a salad and read the second part of Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. The book is absolutely incredible. The ranch on my salad was bland. While walking to the car, an older man in a full brimmed, floppy gray hat turned around and had such hope in his eyes when he asked, “Are you Katie?”
I paused to smile politely and tell him I was not. I noted the food bits stuck in his beard and the plate on his table before walking back to the car. I couldn’t help but wonder about his story. Who was Katie and what was he waiting for. My imagination wandered off to a long lost biological daughter, never met until hopefully today. Maybe Katie was a Spanish tutor or a hired house-sitter, set to interview on the Weaver Street lawn.
I’m ever so entertained while sitting here on the couch. Mattie Mark is flipping through the television channels. I’ve just been away from tv for so long that I forgot about what exactly is on, or isn’t.

Mattie: “Did you know Lindsey Lohan is bumping clams?”

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