ch. 4

Maybe I'll kill myself.   The weather wouldn't much miss me.   Wouldn't notice—nope, wouldn't even know, like I don't know every night, only when I become a fragment of her.  I'm just the one rolling by the hills.  There's a 10 percent chance, I thought, approaching the exit ramp.  That was a figure I felt comfortable assigning to my fate, a good cushion and realistic.  I had to stop by the Motor Vehicles building.  I took the morning from work to do so.  I didn't mind the wait because I would have my coffee outside the building in line, and a cup seemed fine for the crisp air, but there was no line outside the building, and I carried the cup of coffee most of the time inside the bureau.  Sometimes I would get annoyed at the presence of the heat from the cup near me on the counter as I had to fill out the forms; I would get frustrated and want to toss the thing away.  There was a seat next to a beautiful woman.   I could have sat on the chair with the one space between us, but I was tired of being awkward.  I felt so comfortable sitting next to her not doing anything.  Something about the proximity of her stately plump thighs crossed near me strangely felt non-threatening, but rather homely.  I felt like resting my head on her shoulder.  She got up to take a call, I presume, and I casually watched her walk away, first her jeans, then her hair and her face as she turned, till she left through the two exit doors.  When she returned, I gazed up to welcome her back to our seat.  I wondered how I could get her to feel the exact same way about me as I did about her.   She used a business card to highlight a book she was reading and I thought it was cute; after awhile, I grew maladjusted and thinking back on the cup of coffee you can't even sip and the surly fellow who charged me for it across the street, I felt more irked toward my surroundings.  I decided to leave before my number was called—I knew beforehand I could have just taken care of the matter on the computer.