Confession by XXXXX XXXXXXXXX
Who are you? I ask the man. He shuffles his newspaper and looks with concentration at the story. I tell him that I am not a murderer but this somehow does not appease him.
Who are you? I ask again. No reply. Well, two can play at that game and I look out the window. Hopeless little train stations pop up every now and then. Little town train stations where the trains stop once every three hours. I can laugh at them because I am a city man and they probably laugh at me back for being a city prick.
I get up and sit next to a young blonde girl with a briefcase. Maybe a new graduate going for her first interview. Maybe a porn star and her case is full of butt plugs and lube…Her face shows a little disgust as I sit down. Why this instant dislike?
Do I know you? I ask.
No, she says in a very short and direct way.
Did we have sex before? I ask her. Her face shows a real disgust. Maybe we did then.
I sit back down at my original location.
Who are you? I ask him again. No reply. I call him an asshole and open my pre packed sandwich.
Who are you? I ask again. No reply. Well, two can play at that game and I look out the window. Hopeless little train stations pop up every now and then. Little town train stations where the trains stop once every three hours. I can laugh at them because I am a city man and they probably laugh at me back for being a city prick.
I get up and sit next to a young blonde girl with a briefcase. Maybe a new graduate going for her first interview. Maybe a porn star and her case is full of butt plugs and lube…Her face shows a little disgust as I sit down. Why this instant dislike?
Do I know you? I ask.
No, she says in a very short and direct way.
Did we have sex before? I ask her. Her face shows a real disgust. Maybe we did then.
I sit back down at my original location.
Who are you? I ask him again. No reply. I call him an asshole and open my pre packed sandwich.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.