Never enough Johnny's...

During this conversation, she asks me if I’m in school, and I say yes. I tell her about how exams went, as they were near that period, and told her I had a Biology exam that was over genetics. And she looks me straight in the eyes, with seriousness of a heart attack being read in every wrinkle of her white soccer mom face, and says: “Oh, I’m a Christian, I don’t believe in genetics.”

Flabbergasted. My eyes do that spinny rainbow thing that Apple computers do when theyre buffering. A second goes by. I’ve gone through all stages of grief at this point, but haven’t reached acceptance. I have to say something, I have to say SOMETHING. If I just stare at her through this, she’ll know I think she’s fucking dumb and she might get angry, and I don’t need that. Two seconds have gone by. I have stopped scanning groceries at this point, and am just being violently shot back and forth between two sections of the galaxy. I can feel my body taking leave of my soul. Three seconds. I have to say something. 

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