â€œI remember you well...â€ Thatâ€™s what I wanted to say to the man who looked like Leonard Cohen. It was a lyric to one of my favorite songs of his.
He walked past me at the bookstore that I work for. Iâ€™m a writer in Los Angeles and like a clichÃ©, with my dangling name tag, working as retail slave to pay my bills with a college degree thatâ€™s propped up on my makeshift dresser in the basement apartment that I rent in Pasadena.
I couldnâ€™t tell if it was him. It had to be Cohen. The Read more