Everything has a purpose.

I was procrastinating on deep working, something I've been working on a loong time.

Something in me said, Go for a walk.

Outside, I saw my first boss.

One of the most succesful and richest person I've ever met.

We talked about Rona.

*thread*
The sun high in the sky, but it was cold, but the rays warmed my skin still.

Finishing my walk, I had sat down and smoked Camel.

In the distance my old boss biked by.

We did the is-that-him-no-it-isnt staredown.

She stopped her bike.

We greeted, but I didn't move forward.
I smoked. She had never seen me smoke. For a split second I wanted to hide the cigarette.

Then I thought, Then was then, and now was now. I smoke. Others may or may not like my habits. Shrug.

I am my own man, now.

She hadn't recognized me at first. I look different these days.
More vibrant, differently built, something in my eyes.

After the initial greeting, and the social distancing acknowledging.

I asked the inevitable question:

"How's bizz?"

She owns restaurants. Plural. I busted tables for her, and made meals, and did dishes.
I worked the cash register, I did storage. I did it all.

That was her system. A small unit of workers that does everything. Neat mechanism, compared to other joints. Too much superflous workers.

She said, Well SORRY, but times are not going well.

She smiled in the sun.
I smoked.

Lot of restaurants have gone bankrupt. And hers was no different, effected too.

She was coping with HEAVY losses, We'll wait it out, she said.

The same smile again. Her frame, always impeccable.

I said, You always shift gears quickly.

She nodded.
It's about acceptance, she said. It's realizing luxury isn't a necessity. One does not need five cars

One should be happy with what one has.

I added, Health and family is what counts.

She agreed. Of course, she always said that to me.

Summer was always big for her. Carnaval.
I knew the big times in the year for her. I smoked.

I asked about her family. There was always a loose connection.

Her kid had bought me a mug for my BD three years back. I'm looking at it RN.

I could tell she was being strong, but the situation was apparent.

I thought back
To the lessons she always said to me.

I said, You always said to me. The sun always rises tomorrow.

She nodded, and smiled, with slight wonder in her eyes.

I stood up, and down the steps, more approachable.

On level ground. I looked her in the eye.

She asked about my walk.
I said it gives me ideas and sorts out thoughts and such and such.

Then it came.

She hadn't asked. Maybe purposefully. But something in me felt like sharing.

I said, I'm doing fine. Writing more now. Like you always said I should.

See, she said. You are on your own path.
I smiled, now. The sun was still high, and people passed us by, and she was getting uneasy.

Her internal clock was always working, this and that to do. Work, work, work.

In the moment, I flashed back to when I stopped working for her.

I couldn't make sandwhiches my whole life.
But the period between that job, and my next more 'serious' job was a time of uncertainty.

I didn't feel proud, to say the least. Unsure about the direction I was going.

My path. My journey.

I remember walking in the city, and being embarassed to walk by her restaurant.
Much less go inside. Talk to her.

Now I was talking to her, looking her in the eye, level ground. The times of Corona.

Some strange equalizing effect transcribed.

I said, When rona hit, I felt fine, times are different, mb for ever, but staying home is good for creativity.
Everything has a purpose, I said. The things you said then. Me needing to write. It's finally clicking.

She smiled.

I had stopped smoking, she didn't like it I think.

I felt at peace talking about my situation, while in the past I was unsure about myself. Years back.
This, too, reminded me about a chat I had with a friend.

"Do you feel proud, when you talk about your achievements, Fury?"

I gave him a whole story, but not the direct straight to the point answer.

Now, I knew, tho, I felt ok. Good. Vibrant.

She had to go. Work.
We greeted, she departed, and biked away in the frail sunlight.

I stood, for just a second.

Grabbed a smoke. Lit up.

I smoked.
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