Upsetting
Wednesday, November 13, 2002
 
You’ll sleep when you’re dead. That’s what you think.

These are brown leather pants you’re wearing, and it’s only 9 p.m. So what if it’s Tuesday, work can wait.
This is The Big City. You need to go get it. After all, isn’t this what you wanted? This is what you wanted, right?

This is what you wanted.

Instead of climbing the bleached stairs to the El, you unfold your arms and walk toward the street, lift your right arm for a cab. Your left arm in the pocket of the brown leather pants, you clench your elbow and bring your upper arm – is it the bicep or tricep? biceps or triceps? you can’t remember from the gym – close to keep your left boob warm.

You are going out.

Out.
 
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