tragedy of the commons

There's this girl who comes in once a week or so and always wants to talk. She's maybe 25, but is already getting that tight too much plastic surgery look, and is way skinnier than she needs to be. I try to be nice, but I can hardly bear to look at her.

Some people I glance at and see their lives spooled out, running past like film- she's one of them.

Today she bought $40 worth of blank journals.
She wondered if I could look for some books and call her if I found them?
Sure, if I had the time.

She wrote on the back of her business card

exotic dancing
bondage/dominatrix
toy poodles
french bulldogs
grooming dogs

"It's a little strange, but that's just me!"


Indeed.
=/