Wednesday 28 January 2015

If I Could Only Remember My Name

If I Could Only Remember My Name


By any reasonable measure, I’m an even-keeled sort of fellow, one who doesn’t kick cats or raise a ruckus at the supermarket when a customer ignores the 15-or-less items rule or fidgets for several minutes with the credit-card swiping machine. A hairy eyeball exchanged with the person behind me, sure, but that’s it. I have friends at local retailers, tip well at restaurants, drop a buck in a busker’s hat, and banter with the lovely ladies at the Starbucks near my office.

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