Sorry, wrong one

He said my name today.

Just my name. "Daria?"

I said "sorry, you got the wrong one."

I don't know why. He was just buying cigs. He looked kind. He was someone's cousin. He knew me from back there.

I walked off. I left the roll half done. The light was good.

I sat with Greta after. She asked where I'm from. I said here, but not here. She laughed. I didn't tell her more.

At three I called Werner. His phone rang and rang. No pick up. I held it and I could not say one word.

The phone felt so heavy in my hand. Heavier than the print in my pocket. Heavier than my whole bag.

I think I'm not going somewhere. I think I'm just running from.

I don't know who I am. I just know who I'm not.