Now I go through each day thinking of new and improved ways to sell myself. It's sad, really, that I don't share anything with the people I live with. We can gripe about the weather. We can have an awkward moment in a doorway. We can throw a smile, pass a phone number, or have a quick laugh.
But the people in my new community are as hidden to me as the snow-obstructed houses back in Minot. I can only see their faces, not their hearts.
I don't need to pretend I'm important. I don't need to have a catalog of pals I treat like business acquaintances. I just need two or three tight-knit comrades who will see me through the winter. And the summer. And the fall.