Nighttime blabbering 550

There aren’t many things that grind my gear until breakage, but I can name a few. Yesterday was an ordinary day in all its regards. Sunny day, a time off work, house cleaning, chores, the usual. Today, I helped my neighbor with planting potatoes. She lands me to use her internet for work, help around the house, housekeeping, and other things. We have a pretty good agreement about this, and none have problems. So, I took a jacket, a shopping bag, money, and my medicinal mask, you know, the azure color, the surgeons ware on work. And I went outside to go to the local shop, when my neighbor called me from the window. I was already waring my mask the proper way, over the nose, down on the chin. A stranger walked passed me when my feet was at the fence, and began laughing. Not laughing at the joke, or in a courteous manner, but laughing in some sort of disbelief. It was as if he thought that I must be one of those idiot, scared of death, frightened for my life, a guy that believes the news, the number of dead, something like that. The second guy next to him whispered to this Joker “Let it go. It ain’t easy for him.” Wait a minute. I’ve never met these people in my life. What ain’t easy to me? Why the snickering, the smug behavior, throwing hands in the air, rolling your eyes? My blood was boiling, but I keep my cool. I haven’t said anything to them, minded my own fucking business, went to the store, bought what was on the list, returned home, washed my hands with soap, for five minutes, and prepared myself a cup of coffee. Tomorrow, I plan on writing the novel. If I retain this anger, I could use it creatively, express myself, write it down, and forget about it. See, there’s always something you can use in your advantage.

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