November in the South
My roommate and I walked out the door of our apartment and traveled in two directions. The airport shuttle driver came to pick me up. He was a young man who told me he hoped to be a stand-up comic someday. When we reached the airport, he was unable to break a $20 for tip. I went up the escalator and the clouds and was driven home by my parents on Wednesday night. My father talked about the weather and the fog.
We had Thanksgiving dinner the next day. A fog broke out in Malibu that turned out to be a fire. I’ll be leaving for Davis before the air quality gets too poor here from the smoke.
If you believe in symmetry, it’s entirely possible I’ll arrive at my apartment front door in tandem with my roommate and his bags.
Categorized as Life
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