This guy can’t possibly think that the woman he met a few hours ago can actually see him from the cargo container she’s hiding in. He has to know that even if she could see him, she wouldn’t bother to acknowledge his solitary presence on that gray beach. Look at him–his posture saying nothing so loudly as “defeat,” his bag full of whatever physical hooks to his history he considered important enough to pack when he fled the basement room back in Lodi. This guy should be tacked up on the office walls of high school guidance counselors everywhere as an example of how not to carry yourself if you want to avoid being bullied.
For God’s sake, man, you were nothing but a means to her end anyway. Straighten your spine, throw away the cracked, useless condom you’ve been carrying in your wallet since 1984, and walk the hell out of there! Start a new life. Get a boat and take people fishing for leopard sharks. Set up a fire-walking franchise on Mt. Tam; there are still plenty of harmonic convergers willing to part with some cash for the chance to believe in totally bogus bullshit. Something, anything besides staring at that ship. I can’t watch you any longer.
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