Draft

This story is adapted from Nafissa Thompson-Spires' short story, Not Today, Marjorie, which appeared in her collection titled, "Heads of the Colored People." [[Start]]

You feel frazzled as you enter the DMV. You try to stick to your acronym all morning... [[WAIT]]

Watch your feelings for a moment Acknowledge them Imagine your options Thoughtfully proceed You successfully avoided unseemly conversations for the past four days, but the ride to the DMV was taxing. You're approaching [[your limits]]

You can't seem to see any good, despite your best efforts. You're trying to practice what your therapist told you and replace but with and. [[I'm angry, and I can still keep my temper in check]] [[I lost my temper, but I couldn't help it]]

[[I hate crowds, and I'm still going to keep my wits about me at the DMV. -> bad day]] [[I hate crowds, but I have go to the DMV -> bad day]]

[[I hate crowds, but I have go to the DMV -> bad day]] [[I hate crowds, and I'm still going to keep my wits about me at the DMV. -> bad day]]

Today, however, is not a good day. [[Stay in car and listen to Ice Cube song]] [[Step out of car]]

The song reminds you of your old lifestyle and your ex-boyfriend Charles. The song ends. [[Step out of car]]

You immediately regret your choice of your long-sleeve shirt. (You always wear long-sleeve shirts.) The sun is way too hot. [[You smell the icky pollen but don't notice the vibrancy of goldenrods.]]

You go inside the DMV. Grimy children run around and play with cell phones, families speak languages you don't recognize, and squat pregnant women slouch in chairs. The air conditioner is blasting, replacing the heat outside with its own oppression. [[You just want to get in and get out -> preferred DMV]] [[You are already so stressed -> preferred DMV]] [[You don't want to get worked up. Not today. -> preferred DMV]]

Your preferred DMV is on Baseline (if one can prefer a DMV), but it's closed for renovation. Your friend, Jessica, told you to at least try to renew your license online or go to the Foothill location. She knows how irritable you get around crowds. [[You scold yourself for not listening to her]] [[You think Jessica was wrong]]

Jessica was right and now you're at the DMV, experiencing all of its ugliness. [[You find a chair]]

You were not able to complete your driver's license renewal online or by phone or by mail. [[You had to come to the DMV]]

You had to subject yourself to the new fingerprints, vision tests, and the looong lines. [[Furthermore...]]

you are perfectly fine in crowds. You attended a church with over ten thousand members and just volunteered at its back-to-school backpack drive. [[The problem is the DMV]]

Jessica said this DMV was nice. She was wrong. [[You find a chair]]

You settle into your chair facing the entrance, avoiding a black blotch that might have been old gum, and adjusted the sleeves of your shirt. You try to assure yourself it deosn't matter which DMV you chose, because in some ways they're all the same.