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Coffee with Chèvre

I'm sitting in a Starbucks, like I normally am when I am writing in this journal. It is kind of funny, I was just wondering to myself, do I like living in the country, or in the city better, and would it be all the same for me in a suburb moreover? I have found actually that maybe I have changed, that maybe my preferences have changed, that being alone or being in silence too much is actually very painful for me. This is so different than it used to be.

I don't know if I suck at making conversation with people or what. I like to think I am always better than I think I am. It gives me confidence. As I was sitting here a man mentioned to me that I always used to hang out at the Starbucks on Green Oaks. Wow, that brought back such memories. Do you realize how many years ago that was? At least seven. We both expressed serious regret about that place closing down. I started scenes and characterizations there that I haven't been able to finish because the characters are "there" "at that place."

But here I am, and I brought Chèvre with me, and he is doing really well. He's sitting at my feet acting just like he does at home, and one of the baristas brought him a bowl of water in one of those oatmeal cups.

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