buffalo stomachs

It made sense at the time, he thought. Spend $37.42 on a pipe, right? Then walk out of the store, drop it, break it, and suddenly question the value of everything you own. Suddenly you don't know why you spend money on anything at all. Suddenly your life is changing, and you start digging in trash cans for food.

He'd been spending his own money since he was 14. Had a job at his father's office, which was a business of no particular sort. He was in charge of the file room. Cumbersome metal cabinets full of trees. That's the way he thought of it. They were organized with numbers and letters, both of which had stayed in his memory. When he heard the word "StarTrust," he couldn't help but think, "27, S, Arizona file."

There he was at 26 years old outside the gas station with broken glass at his feet thinking of StarTrust Bank and wishing that atleast some of the useless information from that first job would leave his brain.

He looked down at the broken glass. If he'd been in a different state of mind, he'd have promptly gone back inside and asked if he could have another one. As it was, however, he was feeling frivolous and silly. He was embarrassed for himself - if anyone could see the internal turmoil he was subjecting himself to, they'd have pitied him. He and his turmoil drove home.

Upon entering the house, he began to see things as just that: shit he'd collected, bought, been given that made his life neither better nor worse. Yes, there were a few things that meant something to him, like his grandmother's wedding ring, his first guitar. But what held on to those things within him was not the skin cells that probably didn't remain on them from years ago - it was the memories.

He emptied his house. If he could remember 27, S, Arizona file, he could certainly remember his grandmother and his first guitar lesson.