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Congress & Bertrand

June 3, 2015

It’s busy at work. I’m feeling the pressure. I’m not sure I’m capable of handling the workload expected of me. I’m going to have to go in this weekend just to catch up. My hormones are raging and crimes are being committed in my uterus. I’m angry and sad in the same moment. I feel like I weigh an extra 100 pounds. It’s hot. My air conditioner only works when I’m moving. I’m sitting in traffic at Bertrand and Congress. I just left a t-shirt vendor to pick out colors with a board member. I’m headed to my apartment to make some lunch to take to work to eat at my desk. I’m dressed for my cold office. I’m starting to sweat. The hot mid-morning air from the open windows blows my stringy straight hair in my face. I turn the music louder and try to relax.

I look to my right. I’m just behind the line of sight of the driver of a big, white truck. He is young with tanned skin. He’s not wearing a shirt. I wonder what his day will be like. Where he’s been and where’s he’s headed. His window is down too. He lights a cigarette and takes a long drag. Then, as if he knows I’m looking at him, he looks back into my car and makes eye contact. I smile and turn my head. For a second, I wish I was him.



From → Rantings

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