A voice in my head today said, "Move to the city."
Another voice -emanating, it seemed, from the television and radio- said, "You must love the planet. You must." It's kinda scary.
Upon hearing of my 'Love the planet,' voice, Clarke said, "The planet's fucked. We're a disintegrating rock floating in space."
Susan leaned in for a kiss and squinted, whispering "I see you," at my beard.
Mr. Hung laughed when I asked what it was like to move here from San Francisco at 32 years old. "You have no idea," he replied.
Nope. I sure don't. But when I put certain albums on my stereo he looks at me and says, "Yes. You got it."
Birdie flew into Hung's today with a kiss for her husband, and a, "Hey Matt. Oh god, you should throw a party again."
Larissa looked quick at me and said, "So, you gonna call them or what?" An ice cream cone dripped over her knuckles.
Mrs. Scurfield and I met at the Trees again. "How are you?" she asked.
"Alright, thanks," I told her. "But this week, you talk."
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