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Insurance Claims Adjuster by Josh Borchardt

from East French Press: Poetry Power Hour by East French Press

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Insurance Claim Adjuster


I could see her eyes change, that once were filled with curiosity and intrigue quickly became sorrow as disappointment. Her gaze was met by my look of question.
“What’s wrong? What happened? Is everything alright?” I asked with genuine concern.
“It’s just---” she began while trying to hold back her tears. “It’s just that you’ve changed, you’re not the insurance claims adjuster that I once knew.” She paused and briefly looked away. “And I’m not sure if I like this new version of you?”
Hmmmmm. New version of myself? I thought, trying to figure out what she could be talking about. I had to be very careful about what I said next. I admit I had changed over the years but who hasn’t? There’s no way a rational person would believe that a thirty-something is similar to a self decades earlier.
That can’t be it though.
Perhaps it’s because my hair got thinner or that I’d put on a few pounds, but nothing unexpected for a man who’s metabolism has slowed steadily since college.
Trying not to come off insincere or unconcerned, I tried to buy some time to think by saying:
“Oh. Well, I’m awfully sorry. Was there an exact moment or event that made you feel this way? Maybe I could explain a little if you helped me out.”
I could see her searching for the words as I myself couldn’t put my finger on. Could she be talking about the time I said reggae music was garbage?
No, that’s not it, because that’s obviously a true statement, thinking as I scratched my chin.

Or maybe it’s because I forgot to pay some toll road fees and those bills went to a collection agency which caused my credit score to drop slightly. That’s not it either, no one knew about those bills.
Then suddenly I had an Eureka moment. Actually saying,
“Eureka!”

As I throw my finger into the air, as if I just discovered alternating currents.
“I’m not the insurance claims adjuster that you once knew because I don’t know who the fuck you are and I’ve never been an Insurance Claims Adjuster.” I said, proudly.
She rolled her eyes so hard that I thought they might get stuck.
Then you got up and sat on the other side of the Golden Corral.

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from East French Press: Poetry Power Hour, released April 25, 2021

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