It's odd to be treated as a person, instead of an attack dog or a thing. Odd to be allowed to leave my station, odd to be allowed to do something other than just broadcast the news. It's odd to be allowed to be where I am right now, sitting in a diner across from Lorimom, typing out this entry There're not many humans in here, and that's good. I have issues with crowds sometimes.

I'm discovering Im okay as long as I'm just a disembodied voice, but the moment someone can touch me, I clam up a bit.

Someone suggested I try shrimp, said there's a high likelihood that I'd enjoy them. So I am. Grilled shrimp, because it sounded better than fried somehow. But someone, Curtis perhaps, ordered enough food to feed an army. Will we be able to eat all this? Thank goodness for to-go boxes I suppose.

There's a thing on TV about house building or furniture building. I'm only half paying attention but it's nice. And our waitress, Emily, is a sweetheart. I've not had a random stranger be so nice to me before.

I guess she's not so random to most of us but this is my first time eating here. And it's nice to have someone friendly wait on you.

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Kevin

February 2015

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