You

You’re at the salon (saloon?). You’re staring at yourself in the mirror, pretty unsure of who is looking back. It’s hard to recognize yourself, almost. Who is thinking these thoughts? Are you thinking to think these thoughts? What’s going on? He’s come to massage your back while you wait for your hair to get done. You’re doing your hair because you are bored. Privilege looks like straight hair with shades of brown. The massage is the only form of human contact you’ve got in days. You realize it’s wrong to maybe think that. You don’t have change to tip anyone. All your change is spent on Ubers and bodas. You think about yesterday’s boda ride. What would have happened if the accident had happened? Would you be seriously injured or dead? Would your helmet have flown off? What would have happened if you died? You make conversation with the guy giving you a massage. Tell him you need to pee. You pee with the cubicle door open. Regard to laziness or carelessness. You study yourself in the mirror there. Who are you? What are you doing here? You wash your hands and walk out of the toilet. The corridor smells of a smoked cigarette. Smoking in enclosed spaces has a fine of up to 50,000. Someone is brave. You purse your lips thinking about how brave you’d become with smoking in public now. It’s time to do your hair. You break out of your thought process:

  • Aren’t you tired?
  • I used to this. I’m just feeling hot.

Back to thinking. Your hair gets done. It feels so delicate. You feel like a glass doll. You wait for your aunt to come to pick you up. You need to get a licence. You feel a sudden pang of hunger. A result of the new medication you’re on.

Who is thinking these thoughts?

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