Tuesday at the clinic, I receive a repeat. And I notice four people I actually know, and awkward is a word that couldn't even begin to describe. And after dispense I walk to Starbucks, where I sit at a table. And the coffee which I get for free was never warm. And has spilled from the cup onto a napkin. Staining the white sheet brown. And I think about my teeth, and stare at their reflection in my communication device, whilst Latitude tells me that all contacts have left the city. And I contemplate driving down to the coast for a couple of days.
And those couple of days come and pass, and with the absence of company, I simply stay behind glass for the duration. And eventually when I feel the need to go outside, it's not all that great. And in a photo I find, a boy wearing a Black t-shirt with an MTV logo on it, and in the background is an Oman beach, and it reminds me to book so some sort of flight. And I add a comment which reads 'Where is this must have from?' And it's been four days and still no reply.
And in a twist of events which probably involve boredom, small orange tablets, and gin, I'm watching Five-hundred Days of Summer. And basically what the production team have done is taken a rough outline of my life and watered it down into five hundred, less dramatic days, and the likeness is uncanny. And really there is not much more to say other than, watch it or something.