I opened the doors, and a desolate night exposed itself to me. If time stopped, no one would be able to notice the abrupt surrealistic change. No one would be there to notice it. The air was surprisingly still, and absent mittens of ice wrapped around my ears. I should've worn ear muffs. Or maybe a coat with a hood.
The town was quiet, but the traffic lights were still hard at work. Controlling empty streets with their perpetual routine. I was tempted to stop, but I walked across anyway. No car was cruising around fast enough to run me down. They're more likely to be parked in front of a house, on the driveway, or maybe along the road, where shadows play mirthfully on the luminescent windows. Smoke wafting up the chimney, smelling like turkey.
Thai Garden isn't open? No matter, I'll trade Tom Yum Gung for Indian food anytime. That's not available either? How unfortunate. Perhaps Starbucks would be kinder. And it was, for 30 minutes, I think. After 20 sips of latte and a brownie, I was out with a bag full of cakes and other reduced-fat morsels. I was hungry, I didn't care.
Two hundred steps or so, I started to breathe in harder. I needed a tissue, fast. I guess music would've helped, but I thought I wouldn't take so much time. I've been out for more than an hour. Finally, I reached the door. I kept forgetting to place my cardkey in my left pocket. The two seconds of shifting Starbucks from my right hand to my left was more excruciating than the walk. Beep There was no one there to greet me.
I made myself hot chocolate, and ate my fare. Adrian Brody was holding hands with Rachel Weisz. The scene was in Greece, I think. He was wearing a three-piece suit. She, a leopard-print coat. The music was chirpy, but had a solemn undertone, where it suggested separation, and a somber reconciliation. I think... someone forgot about me, today.
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