No one tells you which door to open. You could’ve been a rock and roll star, she says as she pours a glass of lemonade.
You sound like my mom, he says with an accent that places him- Philly, east PA somewhere. I just have to accept the door I opened leads to... Leads to where, she asks.
Leads to wherever the next part starts. Whatever this is.
You think you’re clever, drifting around. No plans, no money, no life.
Never said I didn’t have a life. Whatta you got? This place? Your job at the mall?
It’s somethin’ could lead to somethin’ more.
I’m just afraid of offices, of stillness, of the black hole of life. The mundane day to day bullshit—that’s what I’m running from. That’s what I hope is behind that door.