NaPoWriMo #8

trE

convenience

the clerk smiles at me–notices
my hospital-themed hoodie,
and makes small talk.

I can hear the click-clack of
my shoes as I pace the viscid
tiles of the floor. I hate that sound.

I think to myself, “Who’s cleaning
this place?” and I wonder if
I should purchase the
Payday, Mr. Goodbar, and roll
of tissue I have in my hand.

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