Special like the rest...

Have you ever put a nice piece of a flaky French baguette in your trap and somewhere there in the mastication process discovered a human hair pulled taught across your tongue? As your fingers find an ending and slowly pull the strand from your mouth, you measure, with crossed-eyes, its length, its color, its relative curliness. Is this my hair? My sweetheart's hair? Or is this the hair of someone at the bakery? Someone at the store? Someone I'll never know? For a second or two you are suspended in analysis mode, your face waiting for the signal to relax or to grimace, for the back of your throat to tense-up and heave ever so slightly forward, or swallow. We can only "bless" so many individuals in our small existence. As for the rest, well... Hell is other people.