Yesterday was the last day of my old job. It’s very strange to say it. “My Old Job.” I’ve had that job for a year and a half. It came to define me, even if it was only a Coffee Shop. Part of that definition came from the people— in the last two weeks alone, at least five different people threatened to call the police at me (twice because we charge 25¢ for iced water.) Part of that definition comes from that teenager on the subway. He was joking, I gathered from his laughter, but the fist in the face hurt just the same. Part of that definition came from the revelation that one of our co-workers was a pedophile.
But the biggest part of that definition (or at least the least emotional definition) came from the commute— an hour and forty-five minutes is far too long to travel to make people coffee. Now it’s 20-30 minutes. What do I do with my newfound time? (Tumblr about it, apparently.) It’s a simple change, I guess.
But I feel like a new person. I’m looking forward to the future, in a way that I had forgotten was possible.