Another lazy day at work. Lazy, because I am. Not so much on the shop side, but with the things I always tell myself to do when there's a costumer-free minute. Like right now. The shelves are full, the floors are clean, jazzy beats are filling the room, distorted by the steady sound that the air condition produces. I find myself chilling, like the chicken salad that I'm keeping in the miniature fridge.
Outside, two blankets are hanging to dry in the sun that refuses to shine, one grey and one yellow. From time to time a friendly breeze strives them and makes them swing. A bird sits down on the electric wire above. I secretely hope that it shits on the clean laundry, exercising a perfect example for inner peace (bird) causing furious anger (blanket owner). But, to my disappointment, it doesn't.
An old woman climbs up the street, her hands behind her back, her back bent as if she were looking for something on the ground. For some reason she reminds me of someone in the supermarket who picks up a can of soup and puts it back in its spot. A moment after she's gone, a little girl comes down the street from the other side. The two must've met, and I wonder if they recognized each other.
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