I was looking at a book in the bookstore with a light brown/orange cover. It was called “Martin’s Mixes” and was written by an author named Martin Albuquerque.

I had some Sacagawea dollars, but they were carved out of ivory and the bas-relief was so thick that I couldn’t put them into vending machine slots.

Marianne called me and told me some happy, hopeful news about her life and S. and R. Later, in real life, I got an email from her the same day on the same subject.

Looking at the palms of my hands, I realized with horror that long, fine hairs were growing out of my palms here and there. I tried to pull them out with my fingernails.