You wake up, a bit later than you should have, exhausted. Jump in the shower, finish, choose an outfit. Drink water, leave the house. Grab your bike and ride it to work. You stop at a café, pay $1.60 for coffee you know is worth $0.88. You get to work, turn your computer on, wait for it to load, stare at your colleagues, and begin working. You read the news and other websites that keep you updated. You think. Your phone rings, you speak, you resolve an issue because no one else wants to and you get back to work. You eat a sandwich, make a snarky comment to the owners. Your hands are dirty. You deposit a cheque, stare at your assets. You get another coffee. $1.95. This one is not worth more than $1.00. This place is overpriced. You drink, you walk back to the office, you salute your passing colleages. You sit and stare, you think, you can't wait to go home. Once the time arrives, you leave. You ride your bike back through the familiar road up to your house. You park it outside, check the mailbox. You missed a call. Your parents. You don't call back. You clean, you get dressed, you chat, you eat quickly, you bike to go volunteer. A pedestrian jumps in your way. You remind her you could've been a truck, laugh, and ride away. You see people, you chat, they laugh, you poster, you drop paste on yourself, you clean up at the library, you observe the people, you laugh, you leave. You get told by a taxi driver its illegal, you ignore him. You finish your volunteering. You think of a day in July, you go to a coffee shop. You write, you write and write. You hear ridiculous conversations taking place near you, you write and write. Your phone rings, you set up a meeting time. You fill your Rhodia with more words, you listen to songs, you write. A bald man stares at you, you stare back then away and leave. You meet a friend, you hug because its been awhile. He checks your id at the door, you pay for the ticket, you talk, she's been through a rough time. You keep your jackets on. You get closer to the stage, you watch the hipsters sway. You close your eyes and listen to the band play. You're both enjoying yourselves. You take photos. You look around for others you may know. You dance a bit, you go sit. You go talk to band members, you discuss mutual friends. You find out she's happy doing something you predicted and she said "never" to. But she's happy so you smile. You have a conversation with someone you met once a year ago. You sit. The next band comes on. Lead singer's pants and shirt are too tight for him. His hair reminds you of someone you don't want to think about but you do. You close your eyes, you laugh, you make jokes, hipsters dance. "Footloose" comes on. You dance like they do. You move closer to the stage, you listen to the other band. You're more nostalgic for home even though you're not sure where that is. You think of her, you understand why she did what she did and you smile. You leave, you hug goodbye, you ride your bike, you shiver, you think of June, you want to be home. A taxi driver yells at you, you tell him to keep driving, he's irritated. You're starving, you're home, you brush your teeth, change your clothes, realize you sound like a Bret Easton Ellis novel and go to bed.
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