I hate the suburbs. All the people, wandering around with brainless smiles on their faces like they’ve been lobotomized. I miss the anonymity of living in a big city. I loved never knowing, or caring, who my neighbors were. Here, people know you’ve closed on your house before you’ve even moved in, and are outside waiting with baskets of muffins as soon as the U-Haul pulls up. I feel like I’m slowly being driven insane. Maybe this is some Truman Show-esque experiment?
Right now I’m lying on the floor of my generic but spotless master suite, drinking chardonnay straight out of the bottle. How am I supposed to smile while I make vapid small talk with Muffy and Buffy or whatever-their-names-are this afternoon if I’m not a little bit drunk? Don’t judge me. Anyway, gotta go. Time to pick up the girls from school.
The prompt for the Miniature Writing Challenge this week is foreigner.