I tell Ellen it’s for agreeing with him when she asks me
what’s wrong. We leave The Commons after I had just finished yelling at
someone named Joseph, a twenty six year old farm hand that cut his own hair and
wore Vogue glasses. We were arguing over the fall of socio-capitalism due to
either passive or assertive anarchism. She may have supported one of his points
but I can’t remember. I was drunk.
We stop into a vegan place for dinner. We fight some more. The
subjects jump back and forth between anarchism and our relationship. Ellen is
furious and leaves after paying the $55 for an uncooked black-bean burger
between two crackers and shaved cucumber pasta.
On the street, she walks ahead of me. I mind my pace to keep
the space between us as open as possible.
The Commons
One of the four I drank.
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