Saturday, January 30, 2010
Story of my life.
Devon smiled at me while radiating that familiar school-style vibe that she was very, very unimpressed with me. I was standing out in the sun, the seagulls pecking a few feet away. but I could've been back in the city, stumbling like a clod through the highways of my high school. Picture the great factory churning out the women who would never smile my way except in condescension, the busy assembly lines, the intricate distribution plan that ensured that my vicinity was well stocked. Erica, at least, would chuckle at some oddball comment of mine. Devon didn't understand a singe word out of my mouth, but she was raised right and didn't express her revulsion overtly. I think she was simply puzzled by me.
I used to go to Martha's Vineyard instead of Sag Harbor, but I think the point remains/