My client hands me a cup, but when I try to drink, she insists it is a pitcher. I spill lemonade everywhere. I try to sop it up and stop it from getting on the penciled writing on the rolling cart.
She laughs, “don’t lose the message.”
I stop and look at my palm where I’d scrawled a note to myself. It’s smeared.
I’m chasing seven dogs, including a St Bernard, and a cat. People all around us are drinking and laughing. I keep dropping treats. I stop as they run into traffic.
I can hear laughter as I wake.
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