5:15 pm Once more I find myself in the Tavern, on a Saturday night. I'm working here for my co-worker on a night I would normally be with my children. I got a babysitter for them because I needed to do my friend a favor. He wanted to see a show, and I want to make sure I keep my job, so I offered to do this. This time here is different. I needed the money before, but that condition hasn't changed. I need to be here and make some money to cover my obligations. This time is different because I'm also paying a babysitter while I'm here. At the moment, though, I am watching an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation where Beverly Crusher keeps losing people. As in, they keep disappearing from her universe. At first its a friend who no one else remembers. Then this experience extends to her medical staff. She can't control it, but the number of people in her life slowly counts down to just one. And here I stand, typing at a bar that's so much part
Striking down the mundane and dastardly while retaining a certain obscure turn of phrase, denoting something elusive yet concrete.