We’re all hacks here.

Don’t you hate it when the wifi’s out and you actually have to write something? Oh thank God my sandwich is coming and I can take a break. I don’t want my $1,500 computer that I put on a credit card and actually paid $1,750 for to get potato chip grease and side pickle juice on it, right? Right? Okay, this is a fucking weird sandwich. It’s delicious and everything, but you can’t trust anyone who puts mixed greens on a sandwich. This judgement even comes from the girl who prefers purple kale. Why God why did I sit by the door. It’s so cold and distracting. Cigarette smoke is coming in with each open and close, but it’s also mixed with patchouli. Usually that would be fucking annoying, but now sensory memories engulf my thoughts and I taste PBR, American Spirit Menthols, and warm grass when I was packing picnics for a college fling. You can’t be mad at people when they remind you about days like that. It was so much more fun you didn’t give a shit about anything. This gray February day in a hipster cafe surrounded by other idiots smashing at their keyboards, scrolling memes, and writing shitty blog posts is the opposite of 19-year-old summer love. These door opening assholes reminding me that I quit smoking. Well, I quit “during the daytime and before two drinks” like that’s an actual rule people can use. I hope they are fucking happy with their fucking coffee and fucking top buns. Could you imagine Hemingway using the only when I’m drunk rule?

This girl wearing overalls marched in and moved a chair from one side of the table to the other, even though it’s farther away from an outlet and closer to another person. The person is reading a copy of a book called, “This Little Piggy Goes to Murder.” Jesus Christ I will never be talented enough to write, “This Little Piggy Goes to Murder.” Maybe I can go work for James Patterson  or something. Anyway, I can guaran-fucking-tee that girl is a writer. We’re all weirdos who need to be in corners. I wonder if it’s a vulnerability thing. You’re about to spill your soul so you need something to watch your back. You just have to finish your sandwich first.

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