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Union-Pico job

[FONT=.SF UI Display][FONT=.SFUIDisplay-Semibold]She looked up at me finally, in her eyes there was... a try, a plea, a wish, a hope.[/FONT]
It was a little-girl l[FONT=.SF UI Display][FONT=.SFUIDisplay-Semibold]ook in a woman- like this is me, before all the stuff, and how I am inside, behind it all. And see me, how I don't quite get how I don't quite fit with how things are supposed to be. [/FONT][/FONT]
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[FONT=.SF UI Display][FONT=.SFUIDisplay-Semibold]There was a sweetness, a sincerity in that look, asking, but I could have no answers- not for her; already. [/FONT][/FONT]
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[FONT=.SF UI Display][FONT=.SFUIDisplay-Semibold]None of this was spoken as I read it. [/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Display][FONT=.SFUIDisplay-Semibold]I wanted to, but it was not the place, and it's not done that way here, in a real way. For someone to speak like that- anyone, ever- that cannot be acceptable.
I heard her say I'm probably wasting my time, anyway...which she was right, she was, I guess. [/FONT][/FONT]

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[FONT=.SF UI Display][FONT=.SFUIDisplay-Semibold]I finished my work next door and locked up. The ancient elevator with its baffling sliding gates and closing protocol became [/FONT][/FONT][FONT=.SF UI Display][FONT=.SFUIDisplay-Semibold]a footnote experience, and outside my Toyota would never again park at the parking meter busted daily. Thank you, to whomever...

Across the street the mysterious Victorian with its copper spires and rotting facias behind wrought iron gates, the prostitutes on the side street looking annoyed at me, and their pimps (what is this white man doing here?), and the parking enforcement drivers, would carry on forever. I would eat no more papusas and platanos in styrofoam from down the street. [/FONT][/FONT]

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[FONT=.SF UI Display][FONT=.SFUIDisplay-Semibold]The herky-jerky young woman squatting in the locked alley - twitching, eyes rolling- asking me to come drink with her had already moved on. I wondered about her. She seemed to have no fear. I don't have time; I'm working- Sure, she had said. [/FONT][/FONT]
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[FONT=.SF UI Display][FONT=.SFUIDisplay-Semibold]They found a baby once in a suitcase- it made the news- in the basement storage. Aborted by a resident doctor - they surmised- back in the twenties- it was mummified. What else was down there? [/FONT][/FONT]
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[FONT=.SF UI Display][FONT=.SFUIDisplay-Semibold]No cars, no parking at the building, meters all-around taking, milking the residents who despite experience still got parking tickets regularly. Fuck the poor. [/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Display][FONT=.SFUIDisplay-Semibold]In a month and a half I'd gotten two. Fuckers. [/FONT][/FONT]
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[FONT=.SF UI Display][FONT=.SFUIDisplay-Semibold]I'd never asked where she worked- black clothes- some sort of bohemian-urban, I was okay to not ever see this place again. In those first days peeling laminate off the kitchen wall next door, the million cockroach- a hatchery- had bothered- still bothered. Gross... I would not trade; not accept ( cockroaches leave turds/ have an odor) I don't care- fuck the city if that's what it takes. I could do without it. [/FONT][/FONT]
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Comments

A day in your life...personally, I like these little
glimpses, these observations in time.
Separately, they might be noteable or interesting
at the moment, but consecutively and
collectively morph into long term detailed memory
in that individuals life. Very cool....oh and,
I would miss papusas too!
 
Kev, your font is killin' me.
But thanks for the read. And thank God for aspirin.
 
Agree on font. Love your stories. Hope you are saving for your kids.
 

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Kevin
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