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i was doing what i do best: waiting for a customer to walk up. the music was unoffensive and frank sinatra. a man walked up and put a few items on the belt.

he was old and appeared sort of glum. when i asked him how was doing he cleared his throat and said "okay" very faintly, like his throat was sick. i rang up his stuff and told him his total. he paused and looked at me, smiling unexpectedly. he said something to me that i couldn't understand because his voice was so quiet. it sounded like "how are you," but with the first syllable missing, so i said, "how am i?"

"are you," he said
"how am i?"
"are you"
"umm, i'm good thanks"
"no no, just are you, are you," and at that he lifted his palms outward to indicate that we seemed to be alive and in a grocery store

i thought "this is probably happening because i'm going to die soon," followed by more palpable concern for my thought reflexes and some unease at how confrontational the question seemed, at least in my immediate interpretation of it, which was admittedly laden with fear

i said "well, does it seem like i am?"

he smiled again and said "yes, it does. i wouldn't have asked you if i didn't think you were."

we exchanged money and i watched him walk slowly across the parking lot through the window, feeling some vague but warm thing that lingered into the evening

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i walked into my favorite coffee shop to get my regular breakfast: a blueberry bagel toasted dark-ish, with a small coconut iced coffee. i loved it in there. best coffee in town, even though i knew nothing about coffee. best coffee in town, i tell you. i walked up to the counter in a jovial mood, feeling like i had established a rapport with the counter lady in the last couple weeks. i briefly thought i would say "i'll have the regular" but this seemed risky and i didn't want to come off like some asshole who had deemed themselves memorable. "i'll have a blueberry bagel toasted dark with a small iced coffee," i said. "we don't have any blueberry bagels," she said. "oh no, you ran out?" i said, trying to think of other bagels that might do. "no," she said. "we don't carry blueberry bagels." "ohh. i've been getting a blueberry bagel here almost every day for the past two weeks," i said. "pretty sure we've never had blueberry bagels," she reiterated. i felt vaguely uneasy, like maybe i was in a stephen king novel and i would go back to my apartment and it would be all boarded up or turned into a movie theater or an unfriendly senile woman would live there. i ordered a wheat bagel and ate it in my car in the hot parking lot. a loud truck pulled into the parking lot and a dozen birds flew from the dumpster, charging the sky in a synchronized fury of wings. i knew that they would never have blueberry bagels again

56

a guy from social security called and asked if i had a few minutes to answer questions about my anxiety and depression. i had a few minutes.

"how long have you been depressed and anxious?"
"i've been in therapy for it since i was diagnosed with the kidney disease at 5 years old, but it's become unmanageable since the transplant. i feel like i'm always sick because of the immunosuppression"
"how does the depression manifest in your every day life?"
"i go to bed at 3 or 4am, wake up at noon every day unless i have to work. i feel anxious even around friends, so i'm not social very often"
"how many meals do you eat a day?"
"one or two"
"what are your depressive thoughts like"
"i think to myself, i know what is coming, i know what to expect in terms of my health, and so i think, what is the point of doing anything or trying for anything if i'm always going to feel and be sick"
"ok"

last week my mom tried to talk to me about dating and i said "my life is so shitty that it would be mean and selfish of me to share it with anyone"; it hurt a lot to say it

one of my exboyfriends worked for a sort of detective agency that tried to bust people for "disability fraud." these people would literally spy on people who were receiving disability benefits to try to catch them doing things that would negate their claim to being disabled, and then those people faced losing benefits in court. one time my exboyfriend told me about a guy who lost disability benefits for a bad back when he was videotaped doing the robot in his backyard during his son's birthday party.

what if a disability detective catches me laughing in public or not being depressed or sick-seeming in public, like, having a drink with a friend and smiling simultaneously. what if a disability detective comes to the open mic at bishop's lounge and is like, "BUSTEDDDDD"

what if a disability detective catches me eating three meals a day. what if a disability detective catches me on  a walk, exercising outdoors, developing healthy habits, buying condoms, moving my cat's hands around to make her mime dancing, swinging on a swing, skating at a rink, singing in my car, joining groups on facebook, looking at a sweater i can't afford in a department store, buying an ice cream cone with unnecessary toppings,