Pizza.

I sense that I've wandered into a bad part of town. There seems to be an awful lot of trash everywhere, and there are long marks along the doorways, too deep to be fingernail scratches but arranged in that fashion: four fingers and a thumb. I watch a stray cat chewing at its own leg.

This makes me awfully hungry, and I enter a shop with a stylized pizza slice over the door. I can't quite make out the name of the establishment but I have been having such an awful time reading lately that I doubt it's the fault of the signmaker, whom I assure myself is most likely a standup gentleman or lady. I remind myself that this is reverse prejudice and just as harmful as the other that I feel very badly, until I think about the stray cat once again and the hunger bellows up through me like a failing goat.

The inside of the shop is very hot. The decor strikes me as very odd, exposed steel struts jutting from unpainted plaster, and the woman behind the counter stares at me with some small amount of concern. I'm used to it. Ever since I've modified the dosages the negative feelings I used to house instead take up residence in the faces and body-language of the people around me, which I feel sorry for but it's better than the alternative.

I ask the pizztress, who gives her name as "Choooooooooooooot'n'et," or something, about the doorway scratches. She stares at me, puzzled, and I decide to order food rather than elaborate upon this line of questioning.

I stare for a very long time at the menu, pretending that I am still able to read. Choooooooooooooot'n'et begins using vowels and some consonants that sound very impatient. I say something about pizza, to calm her nerves and form some point of connection. I find myself not five minutes later eating a large slice of slightly burnt pepperoni in the alleyway behind the shop.

It has been a red letter day. I am still wondering about the scratches but when I look for them now, they are faint, as if the doors are healing. This brings me great joy, and the sun is very beautiful today, and there is a song in my heart and a smile upon my lips.

Thank you for reading.

Yours,

Jon Phillips