Memory – The First Thing To Go

He:

“Excuse me sir, I wonder if you might have some spare change.”

(Looking down and away all kind of shifty-eyed behind his glasses) He continued:

“Somebody was supposed to pick me up but they never showed. I just need some bus fare to get home. I live out on 92nd Street.”

Me:

“Didn’t you tell me that same story two weeks ago?”

He:

“I-I don’t think so.”

Memory; that’s the first thing to go. Don’t do drugs kids.

About The Twentieth Man

Age 69
This entry was posted in Drugs, Human Sacrifice, Observations, Personal History, Short Stories and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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