Still Life With Moxie
It's a Small World Afterall

Story time.

So Amanda, who is my co-worker and sometimes-partner-in-crime, comes into work the other day with stories from visiting her hometown of Olympia.

"[So there I was] in downtown Oly at Caffe Vita, and I start talking to the barista there. He's all like, 'oh, you live in Seattle now' and stuff, and I'm like, yeah, I make coffee there too. So he asks me where I work, and when I answer Victrola, he inquires as to which one on Capitol hill I work at. So I'm like neither, I work on Beacon, and he starts freaking out! He's like, 'Omigod, my friend Ben lives on Beacon Hill, and he goes to this coffee shop all the time and used to date this black chick that works there. Do you work with her?' and I'm like, holy shit, I do work with her."


And in this, in this very small world that two people can have a conversation about someone they're not even quite sure they mutually know but in fact do, or sort of anyway, is it so hard to believe that everywhere is close to home? That time can't be spanned by singular event?

I just mean that, be it here in my hometown, or five years ago in Miami, there may be hands placed on hearts and hospital gowns and morphine and endless time for many things to be said, but as it should pass there should be requited I Love You's replacing fear and spanning five years and some 3000 miles.

You may take that as you will for the time being.

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