I am at an intersection. I just got out of a shop. They know me there. They were happy to see me, though my payment was declined the last time I was there. They had been waiting for me to stop by so I could make a proper payment for the tools I bought last time. They want me to stay and chat, but I’m in a hurry back to do my work because, you see, I am an artist. Well, people call me an introvert, and I say, well, if that means I’m busy practicing, then yes, I am an introvert too.
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