Day Twenty
You’re sitting on the el, and someone’s behind you and you
don’t know who and you don’t turn around but you get this
feeling in your gut and this picture in your mind…It’s someone, you know, someone from the past that you’ve been trying to scour out of your mind but can’t because they don’t really make brain-sized Brillo pads now do they? But you wish they did, and you hope that whoever it is (first girlfriend, best friend in fifth grade, worst enemy in third, kid with a bike from down the street) doesn’t remember you. But if you remember them why wouldn’t they? And so you don’t turn around. Don’t turn around, ever.