I forget things I want to remember.
And want to write things I don't.
I was riding the bus and suddenly the distinctly unpleasant smell of urine caught my nose. The cooled polyester lining of my coat began to give my backside the impression of wetness. I checked the seat four or five times, but for whatever reason I couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that I was sitting in someone's piss.
Somehow, it didn't quite disturb me enough to move.
I don't have any friends yet. I should fix that.