"Make a list," he said, with coffeemakers and coffee drinkers intermingling behind him.
I grabbed my purse, pulled out my pen, and then realized in that instant I didn't have paper.
No paper? How do I not have paper? I always have paper. Paper is part of my staple, my lifeblood. Along with a pen. It's ever present. Shooting from my fingertips. There in a snap. My only superpower is the ability to produce pen and paper at will. And now...suddenly...gone. Unarmed. Unprepared. I wiggled my fingers and no paper appeared.
"Here," he said, handing me a flier, "you can use the back of this."
I looked at my wiggling fingers and thought, 'They work.'
4 comments:
What was on the flier?
(We all need to know this.)
What other psychosis' do you have? I like reading about others' psychosis'...most people do. That's why some people become psychologists.
Psychosis? What do you mean? I don't have any psychosis.
Psychosises...or however you spell it...like never walking on black tiles, washing one's hands 35 times/day, or eating only green and blue M&Ms. This is the stuff people want to know about other people. It's makes them feel better about their own psychosis. For example, I ALWAYS buy cans of food in pairs...two cans of chili, two cans of ravioli...except tuna, of course, which must be purchased in packs of four and ... I think I'll quit typing now while I'm ahead.
Post a Comment