Tin House: Transactions

4209455981_76f16fba17_b
Hannah O’Sullivan via Flickr (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

When I was twenty-two and single, I worked behind the counter at a bakery. Customers would point at pastries in a case, and I would hand them those pastries, my hand sheathed in a thin vinyl glove. Sometimes they pointed at a particular pastry—the biggest cinnamon roll, for instance, or the darkest croissant—and I would have to move my arm slowly until I reached the right one.

When I went home my apartment was empty, except for two cats who avoided me. One of them hid under my bed and the other one cried until I let him outside. I slept alone every night for over a year.

Read the rest here.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s