Coughing fits (now associated with undiagnosed/untreated lung cancer and also red phosphorus poisoning or whatever)
Wallabees (now associated with standing otherwise naked in your underoos in the middle of a dessert wielding a gun you don’t want to shoot wondering what has become of your life)
Granny-square afghans (now associated with terribly repressed Family Meetings)
Brian, one of Joe’s best friends (who looks so much like Jesse Pinkman’s white swan that I was overly empathizing him way ahead of the narrative schedule)
Albuquerque in general (so pretty, would love to visit but can’t see how I wouldn’t be like METH METH METH METH EVERYWHERE IS METH although I’m from middle Tennessee so maybe I should be used to it)
Mr. Murray, my own middle-aged, cardigan-wearing, mild-mannered high school chemistry teacher (who would occasionally make calls in class to his elderly mother, with whom he lived, to inquire about her status and also that of their shared cats, OR MAYBE IT WAS TO HIS “BUSINESS PARTNER” AND “HOW’S THE LITTLE GRAY ONE DOING” WAS CODE FOR “HAVE YOU TALKED TO TUCO YET COME ON YOU LITTLE SHIT WHAT’S THE HOLDUP I AM DYING OF CANCER WHEEZE WHEEZE ECHH ECHH ECHH ECHH”)
