What," I said, "is that a crime here or something? Like only buying one thing at the Gas/Gro?

Still, there was also was something reassuring about working for Commercial, almost hopeful. Like things that were lost could be found again. As we drove away, I always tried to imagine what it would be like to open your door to find something you had given up on.

I sat up, sliding them off, and the quiet around me did not, for once, seem empty and vast. Instead, for the first time in a while, it felt like it already was full.

I was just stock in the middle, vague and undefined.

I tried to hold myself apart, showing only what I wanted, doling out bits and pieces of who I was. But that only works out for so long. Eventually, even the smallest fragments can't help but, make a whole.

It's a funny feeling, being suddenly airborne. Just as you realize it, it's over, and you're sinking.

People don't change. If anything, you get more set in your ways as you get older, not less