Un et soixainte-quinze the clerk demands which breaks me from my reverie of dying in a field like a beast. The angst I’m filled with fades. I place my change on the counter. I look at the scratch and win lottery tickets but know my future isn’t in their bright and shiny colours. Bonne journée he says as he takes my money. I tell him toi aussi. But I’m not sure I mean it. 

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