I woke up Saturday to find myself alone, and ready to face the world.
The world did not require much facing today, it was Saturday. Thus, I went shopping.
I do not pretend to be particularly well-liked, thus, I went alone, and found myself searching for Filberts in the incorrect aisle as per my habit. A woman asked me for the time, and I calmly explained to her the reason she would be better off categorizing the time she might have remaining rather than that already elapsed. Oddly enough, shortly after this she left.
I browsed the greeting card aisle to intentionally scorn the shallow good will that others make a habit of exchanging. This was by far the part of my expedition in which I found the most success. Oh, the worthless words we pitch at each other. For the same reason I go to the greeting cards for a good scorn, I avoided the best-seller book rack for fear of simply collapsing in anguish. So many words there not even pitched in good intent, but with intent of making others stupider. Besides, I have yet to see one of my books on these shelves.
Having taken time between digressions to shop, I went to the check-out line to make my purchases.
A man of pleasantly androgynous appearance approached me with far more enthusiasm than I expect to harness in the whole of my life.
"Are you [Name Redacted], the famous neo-Freudian scholar?"
"Yes. Who are you, and why do you assume I am not mute?"
"I am Marlowe Joyce, and I adore your work. I loved the way you use the life cycle of a black widow spider to frame the cycle of all relationships in Anansi: Explication des Moiselles."
"Why, thank you. I assumed such a metaphor was obvious."
"Could you sign my 'Portable [My last name]'? I was reading it aloud on the bus."
I did so, and to add to my anguish, he enjoyed it and without any lack of lustre, walked off leaving his cart.
I made my purchases and left.
