Thinking to Himself

Marc didn’t like receipts. He felt like they are a way back to him. Like a trail of breadcrumbs, even though he paid with cash, back to someone figuring out who he was. Or still is, he thought for a few seconds on whether he actually stopped being the blue man. He also didn’t like the feel of the paper he added to the previous argument. Greasy paper why would he want this.  Despite this, he recognised most people didn’t know this about him and in being polite he accepted them. Folding them into his pocket with a polite smile. But now in this particular jacket the pile had amassed into a ball unavoidable by his hand in his jacket pocket. So he had to throw them out. He didn’t like to do it at home so he always went to a public place throwing a few out here then there until the ball was no more. His usual trash can. Closed? or what over stuffed now he couldn’t be discrete about it. So he walked on, there were people playing in the park people throwing a frisbee, some people even playing basket ball. He walked on the next trash can seemed fine but looks like recently changed. Marc didn’t like that either, then just his receipts would be there no he needed more, needed to be diluted. He carried on past a barbecue past a man sitting on the bench. The way he sat reminded him of Denver for a second. He moved the bunch of receipts with his fingers. The next trash can was good enough so he threw away few in. Just three more cans he thought to himself.