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Update: New Short Story “Priceless”

Years ago, I lived in a house with several really close friends. None of us had any money, and I was working graveyard at a gas station to pay rent and buy food. I don’t remember what the others were doing to get by, but we all managed well enough.

Working the night shift introduced me to some interesting people, many homeless, often drunk. In my sleep-deprived state–I wasn’t able to sleep during the day–I started absorbing the lives those people shared with me. I talked to them nightly, and drifted into a confusing haze during the day where I was unsure of everything. Eventually, my night and day life merged and I was sure that I was one of the people I had met, and that believing I held a job at the gas station was a self-deception, delusion. I returned every night not because I had the job, but because the clerk liked talking to me. The roles kept flipping.

Anyway, The end result of the experience was the short story, Priceless. I’ve looked at it several times over the intervening years, and inevitably, it helps me remember what it is like to be deeply confused, and desperate for a coherent life thread.

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