They put you in a group for bereaved persons.
Tales of tragedy around the circle. Loved ones murdered. Family members burned to death. Leukemia.
Your turn. Bashfully: "Well...my girlfriend...that is my best friend...that is my off-and-on girlfriend...well she was really special and...she left."
They're all really very polite.
Muni bus, San Francisco, July 1989. Tall boy sits all the way in the back, in the corner. He's laughing so hard the tears are rolling. Maybe that had been the point.
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© 2002-2013 Mark Phillips.
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This writing is fiction. Please don't confuse it with reality.