Fluorescent shadow boxes hug every corner of a linoleum hallway as i escape a near death entrance though the slice of the revolving door entrance.
The hallway splits into two long lines . Two bright red signs illuminate from opposite ends of the hallway. The longest line belongs invariably to the sex interchange program applicants. Mostly males, 25-35, middle class, blue collar, lonely, distraught, divorced perhaps. Alimony blues and child payment stories of the single life beat. On the other end are the applicants for the affection interchange. Scanning the line i see that it is mostly women. Shy, tragic looking, occasionally goth, clutching band labeled purses and rectangular outlines of ipods in the back pockets of the tight fitting designer jeans. A few guys too. mostly emo types. The occasional obviously married white picket SUV driving man trying to find a pathway out his marriage that wont look too bad on divorce paperwork.
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