The small world

Sunday morning Stephanie and I blasted off to the coast for the day. First stop was for gas at the Sylvan exit. Stephanie mentioned I might get to meet an attendant there who she referred to as “Crazy Pete.” After a moment, I realized maybe I already knew who this person was. On Mother’s Day I’d eaten brunch with my parents out that direction and upon leaving, heard the telltale chime of my car’s LOW FUEL light come on. After a slightly frantic journey to find an open gas station in a part of town I barely knew, I arrived in Sylvan and was served by a guy making R2D2 noises. It had to be the same guy. So when we pulled in and he was there, I double-checked by asking if he ever made R2D2 sounds. Yes, he’d been known to do so, he replied.

Once we’d gotten our pant legs wet in the ocean and played a couple rounds of Bananagrams with my brother and his lady friend, Britta, it was time to purchase a few snacks from the store in Manzanita. As we roamed the aisles, I caught a glimpse of someone who looked familiar, so I backtracked and asked if her name was Holly. Yep, it was the woman who managed The Malden, the first apartment building where I lived in Seattle twelve years ago. She was the one who collaborated with me to catch a stray rabbit in the abandoned lot next door. I kept it in a crate in the bathtub overnight until she was able to take it to a refuge the following day. Eventually Holly moved out and there was a succession of unpleasant events that occurred on the premises before I bailed myself.

 

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