comments on "The Man in the Pinstriped Suit"

I wrote this in high school, in the Creative Writing Class, or during the Creative Writing Class, I don't think it was a response to an assignment. I quite like it. It has that great turn where "I" try to raise my hand but find it's being worked on by the woman who'd been in front of me in line. A dream logic that you just accept when it's happening. And it was a dream. A real dream. How much it is the precise dream I had who knows but it reads like a dream. I'm happy to have run onto it again.