Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty-Three
Three hours. So tired; it’s like that same feeling of being hungover.
Gas and green juice and coffee. A woman who is not from here asks me if the green juice is good. I mean, it’s green juice.
What a cool campus in a beautiful city-town. Clean. The fog has cleared, and everything is bright.
She seems offended that I am moving to the other side of the bleachers where they aren’t. I’m sorry that I don’t want to be a part of your purple-sequined brigade.
Loud.
We walk to the corner market to grab lunch. It’s like a tinier Sunshine. $10.49 for a can of frosting if you’re in a pinch.
You can see it on their faces.
A rough weekend of sports.
Debating a PTO day on Monday, but then reminding myself that the following weekend is Labor Day weekend. I can make it one full week. Can’t I?
Trying.
