There’s music in my ears but I can still hear the sound my shoes make on the pavement, clashing against the ground like a ticking clock. My mouth has been sealed shut since I woke and no one has looked me in the eye. Our exchange is slight. I take my fruit and offer you the exact change in an open palm. You don’t react, only pick the money with fingerless gloves. I want to not give you anything, not share myself. I want you to not hear my voice. I can’t think about anything if I have to talk.
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