The way that I am allows me to believe in everything if I choose to do so. More often than not I find a hidden, truer meaning in the most mundane of moments as if those tell us something. Tell us something about that big picture. That big picture that we will never see so long as we are still living or something close to it. So what makes me say all of this to you is that it rained again. It isn’t a real rain I would say. It’s a sexually confused sort of rain that falls sporadically and in patches so nothing ever really stays wet. It is the kind of rain that allows you to forget it is rain at all. It makes the city shiny on dark corners where street lights make fiestas. I stopped to buy a bottle of wine because it’s only the beginning of the week and I am already feeling the unrelenting urge to drink. Better not fight it, better just give in to begin with. It makes me feel like more of a team player and less of a bitch. But I think we all know. There are no teams anymore. It’s a one for one sort of system we run and certainly never an all for one. I like to write slow stories about times like that in which the main characters most serious problem is how he is going to get the crop harvested before the winter frost. he is genuinely trouble by this. and so am I. So, when I pour the bottle of wine I talk to myself out loud because everyone else in the house has long since gone to sleep and my cat, although beautiful, is not much of a conversationalist. I tell her about this horribly unhappy couple I had to serve dinner to during my shift this evening at work. Funny thing is they weren’t even supposed to be my table. Every time I asked them a question they answered so completely opposite that they didn’t even notice, only I noticed. Or maybe they had been at odds for so long that these sorts of things just normally go unnoticed. When he spoke she bit her lip and when she spoke he rolled his eyes. I see couples all the time, this wasn’t annoyed been married twenty thirty years type shit. This was seething hatred. I could feel it radiating from their table, it was exhausting just to be around them. I never once saw them speak to each other when I wasn’t at the table pulling teeth to get their order. I watched them more then I watch most people, because most people although unhappy, are also quite boring. This to me was somehow sadistically fascinating. They made me feel angry because I wanted to tell them, “hello? do you know you are still alive? you are not dead yet. just checking, I thought someone should tell you.” And then at the same time I felt really sad because maybe one day they had loved each other but were now so lost in this hatred they couldn’t see straight. And then I got scared. I got scared of ever ending up like them. Funny thing was, they both ordered the linguine. Were they so alike in nature that they wanted the same thing, and had they known without speaking a word the other would order linguine. Why didn’t they just share and try something else, or did they truly have no idea what the other would order and this was all just a mere coincidence. But like I told you in the start I choose to believe in everything sometimes. And this is one of those times. I don’t know what the rain and the wine and the unhappy couple with linguine all have to do with each other, but they do have something to do with each other. Definitely something.