Same

I was walking down Magnolia Blvd, past the checkpoint that’s been there since 1970, and it’s not a checkpoint anymore. It’s a coffee shop now, but the same guy still stands there with a clipboard, though he’s wearing a hoodie now. I don’t remember him being in a hoodie before. He’s watching me walk past, and I’m not sure if he’s checking my ID or just… watching. I don’t like it. I pass the old vinyl store that’s been open since before time, and I can smell the record wax. I go inside, but it’s not the same store. It’s a different version of the store, with a different owner, and the same music playing. ...

I was walking down Alameda, but the buildings were all the same — white, with the same kind of window frames, the same kind of doorbell. No one was home. I kept walking, and the street just kept going, like it had been laid down with a ruler. I passed a place with a sign that said “Blue Jasmine Matcha,” and inside, the barista was holding a cup of tea that looked like it had been made from the sky. I didn’t know why I was ...