It’s 6:38 pm and I’m rushing across town to catch the 7:12 at Grand Central.
It’s 6:38 pm. I note the coincidence – I boarded the 6:38 am morning train, must be some significance in that. Or absolutely none at all and you are delirious.
The thought evaporates like mist and the mind shifts to The Feet. Still 75 minutes from home. The skin has been scraped raw off both heels from new shoes – I wince with each step. How about a few shots of Novocain Doc, hit me. Inject a few blasts in the forehead and let it slow drip, down the bloodstream, relieve the weight from the shoulders and back, and let it settle in my feet, just camp out right there.
The day ended with a semi-social event. Whatever marrow is left, is being sucked out of this introvert’s bones. A career development event for twenty high potentials. I step in the restroom a few minutes before the session, splash cold water on my face, and look. There’s me in the mirror. Thinning hair, and this is kind. Gray. Bags under the eyes, a raccoon Shoulders slumped. Suit rumbled. And they’re looking for some secret sauce from you? Try, please, try, not to repeat yourself. Try not to curse. Try not to be too authentic. Continue reading “Walking Cross-Town. With Marrow.”
