aosid's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - it must be the past. maybe four years ago. the way i move and think is familiar and outdated, like a room i used to live in. i go to buy coffee like i always do when the sun hangs at that irritatingly bright angle. the cashier waves my dollar away like she has for the past few weeks. she is pretty and strange, with brightly-coloured thick-rimmed glasses. i think she is famous or maybe she plays the violin. i don't know her name yet but she knows mine. i am struck with sudden fear. i smile weakly, i scurry away. i need to buy a yellow legal pad. my friend is in the store. he is rugged and likeable and always smells like canvas or leather or some other outdoorsy thing. her picture is on a poster for some event. i knew she was famous. i ask him if he knows her name. he doesn't, but he says that i'm supposed to ask her to the dance. this is when i realize this is a dream, because there is no way he has ever used that phrase. 8:16 a.m. - 2013-03-26 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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