“I’m sorry, but we really do need some form of IDiot.”

I checked all pockets; fluff (or lint – I’m not sure of the difference); two sweets (still wrapped, possibly edible); some string; a few coins; a bus-ticket; a receipt; various other items of little use; but nothing that I could use to confirm who, or indeed ‘what’, I was.

They refused to allow my entrance. I foresaw my exit – and was soon unceremoniously ejected into the street.

Much later (some several years) I realised that all along I had had my library ticket tucked inside the cuff of my jacket.

Never mind, I shall remember it being there next time. If there is a next time. For whatever it was that I needed my ID for.

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