Copyright © 2012 Kameko Murakami
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Nobody ever notices me. I blend and I fade. I exist on the blurred edges. I’d like to say I prefer it that way, but I don’t.
I dress for success at least, even though there isn’t really a uniform for my position. Yesterday it was a skirt and a red sweater. Today, again with a sweater, gray this time, and a scarf, black pants and black boots with a low heel. I think it’s important to maintain a professional look for what I do.
Sometimes I miss sweatpants and torn T-shirts.
I didn’t know why I went into the bar on the corner of Gulf and Reading. I never know why, only that I have to. So I went in, and I took a seat in the darkened corner at the front of the bar. There was a band playing in the corner opposite me, some honky-tonk musicians, cowboy hats, suits. Another typical night in Texas, I guessed.
Who was it going to be tonight? I looked around the bar, which was only half-full, mostly thirty- and fortysomethings, hitting the scene on a Thursday night. I don’t always know right away who it’s going to be, but it’s always someone.