Worn Out Your Welcome.

My fedora is doing a little seated mediation while simultaneously saving a spot, not so much on the counter but for the stool tucked in just under the countertop. Takes me back to my second-grade years, remember saving the seat next to you at lunchtime for your bestie to sit with you at the halfway marker of the day? It shielded me on a trail of sunshine previously, absorbed a few droplets of rain and now this gracious act. I’m guessing you didn’t realize how valuable this topper is to me? An attempt out of earshot in this idiosyncratic corner as the day unwinds, I pay more attention to all opportunities that may beckon me and to those that reek of their fetid vainness. You can no longer bat your eyes at me and think that you won me over, this seat next to me is taken.

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