I sometimes wonder, if I died, who would attend my funeral. Who, if anyone, would come out of the woodwork.
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I saw you in a state of undress on the Skytrain. It was fly.
posted Monday, February 11, 2013 at 5:22pm
I saw you on the Columbia Line near Production-Way University at the ungodly hour of 6 am. You: scruffy early 30-something blond and heli-skiing, backpacker-world-traveller type. Me: sitting across from you, tired in nursing scrubs feeling unattractive. We had a mutual checking each other out moment. Me: I waited a stop too long to say hey. You: got off by the next stop, flashed a smile and flashed your boxers with your fly down. Thanks for the giggle. Was it an accident? Maybe next time you can stay on until Braid.