They began to notice…

Is there a mobile app yet that allows one person to thoroughly stalk another person or several people across several platforms? If not, it would have been useful for me to be blocked from it by my second full day in Rome. Not only was my voicemail box filling up, my text message tone was going off endlessly, my facebook notification number was crawling and crawling, people were even relying on Instagram messages and Snapchat to try to find me. And it was the same half-dozen people. They must have me flagged on every platform there is.

In the words of Liz Lemon and only about half applicable here: Man, there are just so many different devices for guys to not call you on now.  Except now there were so many different ways for people (so many of them who had spent the previous few years exchanging little more than a text message with me every now and then) to try to track me down. A bunch of Nancy Drews previously disguised as ghosts!

I left my phone at home and made my way to a little shop in a vintage market. A bunch of boutique owners had gotten together to mix into one big beautiful market. Glass objects, handmade jewelry, fashion racks, pottery, etc, this market was basically what Anthropologie is aiming to be but at prices afforded by normal adult human beings. At the end was one empty station where a former merchant had sold and left her beads.

Of course I was still having lots of back pain and other little side effects of the cancer that slowly killed my body, but I figured I could spend most of my time sitting behind my bead counter smoking hookah with the gentleman selling scarves next to me. While looking at this abandoned stall, imagining my whole life as a bead seller in a vintage market in Rome, I began to realize the most freeing thing that had ever occurred to me in my entire life on Earth: I can do the exact thing I’m fantasizing about doing!

I asked the hookah-smoking scarf-selling tan gentleman covered in different turquoise accessories how to take over the spot, he responded in perfect English that I just could. So I just did.

Would I feel bad selling somebody else’s beads knowing that she’d disappeared? Nah. Minutia.