Yesterday I was waiting for a fare at Local College Named After A River, fairly late at night (around 8 pm). I spent the wait BS'ing with the security guards. One of them asked, "Is this your second job?" I told him no, I drive full-time, to which he replied, "So why are you dressed like a C.O.?" while pointing toward my legs. I glanced down and realized what I was wearing: my usual steel-toed boots and a pair of my brother's old corrections officer (C.O., aka "prison guard") uniform pants.

I do it more because I know that I'm going to need a cart anyhow, why not grab the one in the parking lot and push it in instead of leaving it for an employee to push in.
He is my Black Dragon (and yes, a good one) strong, protective, the guardian. I am his Silver Dragon, always by his side, shining for him, cherishing him.
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