10.08.2025

In this one I have a job in a city I recognize and know nothing about. There's a package to deliver and the box is open so I can see it's packages of cookie dough. A waitress in a diner tells me we are the same, we should spend time together. There's this movie I've been meaning to see, at the multiplex with the escalators, I tell her, why don't you join me after your shift. Meanwhile I'll wait for you in this museum, in the exhibit with the displays blurred out. It's really strange we never met before now and it's too bad I'm leaving in a couple days, I tell her. We'll work it out, she says. But I have to deliver this package so I'm threading my way on foot through a backed up intersection and someone is playing "First Breath After Coma" on their car stereo, loud enough to drown out the noise from the horns. I know my way around these parts I realize. Chicago or an alternate version of it. Young slender trees in cages like the ones at Millennium Park. Oh there's the address. That building is supposed to be in D.C.