One Picture, One Story
Since I gave up the gin I had taken to drinking coffee. Gallon upon gallon of the black stuff; the stronger the better. Paul had taken to making two pots every morning just to quench my thirst. You’re going to give yourself a nervous breakdown! Paul seemed to think you could catch a nervous breakdown like a cold. It made me chuckle every time he said it. As I sat there staring into my half empty mug I decided I needed a job. I didn’t need the money, but I felt I needed to keep myself busy and out of trouble. My mind shifted to the little shop and the girl that worked there. I entertained the notion of seeking employment there as I finished yet another cup of coffee. I looked at Paul who was lost in a pile of plans and receipts and asked You think the shop downtown would hire me?
The clothing shop? I did see a help wanted sign in the window. Get a damn haircut first, though. You look like a bloody hippie and I don’t mean the good kind!
I didn’t quite understand his sayings sometimes and just chalked it up to a slight case of madness. He was right, however, my hair was a disaster wrapped in a tornado and then infested with rats. I smirked at my reflection, grabbed my wallet and departed for town.
I stared at the pile of hair on the floor and up to the reflection in the mirror. I’d hire me! I exclaimed to the barber. I paid and left a large tip and set out on my way to the clothing shop. I looked down at my fitted jeans, my great shoes and spiffy shirt and felt confidence envelope me. I walked close to the front door and stopped. Inexplicably I froze with fear. I stared at the help wanted sign and saw the girl behind a display and I lost my cool. I turned and went to the coffee shop across the street. I needed a drink and coffee would do.