The necrotic pain in my feet that will most likely be with me the rest of my life, direct result of frostbite wounds, makes walking extremely painful and some days totally impossible altogether. Unfortunately, my fifteen-year-old German luxury sedan is also presently under the weather and incapacitated, such that if I planned on getting cigarettes today I was going to have to do it on foot, trekking from Erlton back down to Mission, limping in my Timberland boots and praying for God to strike me dead. It’s not that far a distance unless you’re in agony. Because it is warm out and smells like springtime, I popped by The Purple Perk and had my first iced Vietnamese coffee of the season. It was wonderful and I felt vindicated for walking through the pain and affirming both it and myself in so doing.
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