Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Chapter 8

I can't stop my mind from running wild. I walk along the sidewalk, imagining every reason why the squat policeman could have asked for my name. My stomach feels queasy and my thoughts are unfocused. It is humid outside and my shirt sticks to my chest.

The smell of the diner wafts to me and immediately calms my thoughts. The aroma pulls me in and next I'm sitting down with 3 different plates of food before me. I nearly inhale the food as I savour the memories of dining with my mom when I was little. We would come to a place like this, probably because the food was cheap. The yellow tangy flavour of lemon in one bite of the succulent chicken sends me home. I'm sitting in the restaurant I knew as a child. For a moment I'm eating a kebab in a hazy bar, looking at the bright red door that stood so out of place in that place.

Good God. How can I be so ridiculous? I'm quite fully back in the diner and I'm quite fully done eating. All it takes is one look around to figure out that I'm not the center of attention. I take great comfort to find that most everybody is caught up in their own conversations or looking at the two inebriated idiots eating like they were starving. With that thought I catch myself judging them. Why should I care if they get high and come here to eat their brains out? I'm trying to be well with society. This is my first step.

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