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Lano Seveda. That’s who I am today, according to the QR code on my name tag. I’m exchanging contact information with a guy at a Chief Innovation Officer convention in Times Square, mostly to prove to my manager that I spoke to someone while I’m here, when we discover the mistaken identity.

“Well that’s not right, is it Joey Leslie?” He says my name as he thumbs it into his phone. “Good name!”

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Taste test

I think I am a narcissist. I don’t know many people who aren’t… or perhaps I’ve surrounded myself with people like me who spend too much time in their own heads and can list 10 different items that are actually mirrors in disguise.

The exterior of my office building is covered in them, reflecting the sky and trees and hundreds of zombies that drag one leg from the parking garage down the long stretch of concrete and through a spinning door, into an elevator, up, and into a cube where they slump until feeding time.

Something about it broke my heart that I couldn't speak French. When the beautiful waitress asked me "Twas eet good?" I wanted to say more than Oui. But in the silent space reserved for superfluous words, I realized that Oui was enough.