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Scene | Dec 13 2007

While shaving just now, I remembered that I hadn’t sent this email yet, although I wrote most of it last night (everything up to the paragraph about snow). I felt bad because you’ll think I’m not thinking of you when really I am. So I put down the razor and turned off the water.

On the way to my desk I imagined myself standing across the street with a bunch of strangers, watching our building burn to the ground. Every now and then a new person would arrive, and I would see it slowly dawn on this person that I must live in the burning building because half my face isn’t shaven.