Slum lords

I’m not sure they want me to stay here. They might know I’m going to Croatan. After the tree fell on my house during the storms was when I decided. There is a lot of timber on my front lawn from cutting it down. Whenever my friend drops me off at home I make her take some. Where she lives there’s a woodburning stove for heat.

I saw her today at breakfast with my other friend. I can’t pay. Croatoans don’t pay anything. They don’t have any money so they abolished money. Nobody had any anyway. I’m not really a Croatoan I’m just poor. My friends fought over who pays. It makes me think they’re not Croatoans after all. I wanted to pay I just have no money. I didn’t want to pretend like I did. I’m not better at being a Croatoan for that.

We go to a place near the hospital for breakfast. One guy is older and his wife has cancer. He talks to us and back slaps us and says hi. He has the same name as me and he’s a character. It makes me think he’s a Croatoan too. He’s probably just a nice guy.

I want our breakfast place to be an outpost on the edge of Croatoa. I’m trying to recruit all the wait staff and bussers and cooks to my side. Maybe we can plant a flag or put it on the kid menu. A maze with the end being Croatoa. The nurses from the hospital go there after they get off  the late shift and drink in the morning. They can be our medical crew.

I have my own sandwhich there. I like that they know and I just say can I have my sandwhich today. When I leave for Croatoa I’ll miss that place. The truth is I’m stuck in this rathole till the roof caves in and Croatoa isn’t real.

 

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