I hate it when my cover's blown. I have the odd talent (luck?) of being able to go out in a small city and not see a single person I know. When I walk down the street or go into a store I don't want anyone to recognize me. Of course, going into the same stores constantly, the regular employees will know me as "that guy who comes in buys the exact same thing every single time." I expect and accept this type of recognition. What I find so jarring is when I run into people I went to high school with or people who know me in some other way. Once about five years ago, a guy in a uniform called out to me; it turned out he was an old school friend that I'd literally known since I was about seven years old, but I hadn't seen him since graduation years earlier. He was now a fire inspector and was out doing his rounds. I, on the other hand, had been working as low-paid temp and week earlier had worn most of the skin off the palms of my hands unloading trucks filled with extremely heavy boxes of thread. So I got to show him my gross, painful hands and see his reaction at my seeming failure at life. Fun. Well, today, my cover was blown in a vaguely unsettling way. I went up to the counter in a store and the woman ringing up my purchases asked me my mother's name. I look nothing like my mother. How did she know who my mother was? Where did she know me from? After exchanging a few words I found out that I'd gone to school with her daughter and son. I'd even spent the night at their house once over twenty years ago. Now I don't want to go back to that store again. I don't want to go from being just "that guy" to actually having someone able to attach a name to me.