There’s no desk here. Not one that I can use. Not one of my own. That is part of the explanation.
Rust grows quick on the fingers. Hasn’t been all that long… or has it been an eternity? I can scarcely recall the difference.
The gentleman that sold me my bedtime six pack remembered me. After years. And after without a thought between the either of us regarding the other. It’s been a while, he said. You moved? I told him I did. Funny thing, the timing of questions.
The thought of there being nothing left for the day occured. Awful thing. I have since ignored it. At least for a little while longer. It is down to ragged scraps over here. Maybe always was. The radio rattles on in the other room. I didn’t turn it off. Just turned it down. It’s an…