garbage.
“Very good choice, Sir,” I heard the guy across the counter say.
And I knew, immediately, that I had made the wrong choice.
Not because the product that I had picked was, in any way,
inferior to the other products serving the same purpose —
or — because I had paid a price superior
to the actual economic value
of the item I had selected.
And clearly not
because both my biological parents were dying
— simultaneously — a duly expected and
reasonably deserved,
if somewhat premature, death —
miles and miles away from
my point of purchase,
of an item I did not particularly need.
No, the impropriety of the sale
lay elsewhere.
It was more the definitiveness
of the transaction, the
irreversibility of what had passed before.
The lies and the deceptions
that had been around for so long.
