XX. Judgment.

The Market—DAY

I’ve followed Andrea.

Perhaps.

In any case, I’ve Crossed a Return Threshold of sorts. Back to the Ordinary.

I follow her into the Market. I shrug at the used books and clothes, no longer in the mood to shop or follow.

“I don’t want anything,” I call to her, “But I do need to pick a tub or crate or something to keep my clothes in. Let me know if you spot anything.”

She immediately points to some large plastic bins.

“Great,” I think, “Now, I not only don’t have the search for a clothes basket to preoccupy me, but I have to lug that bin around the market as well. Why am I even packing up my stuff?”

She has meanwhile disappeared. I now find myself stewing, pushing my bin aimlessly around in a shopping cart.

Seemingly aimlessly, that is.

I smile and pull a U-turn as I pass a liquor aisle, bringing myself face-to-face with an old lady with her own cart seeming to loom over me.

“Son, I can smell that liquor on you.” She scolds, “And you’ve had that stink for a long time.”