Granite... Me

As I retreat into the cloying embrace of apathy (always waiting) for a glorious but otherwise unremarkable death, the detritus of a hastily abandoned snack snaps me back to my new reality long enough for a bite.


It's light already and the intermittent clatter of heavy machinery is decorated both by the yells of the workers and the fearsome barks of our resident apex predator
There's a new mysterious wail too: somewhere between the predictable chirps of a human infant and the inchoate screech of mammalian rancour.


I roll over carefully (so as not to upset my addled proprioception with excessive plane shifts)
My phone didn't make its 'home' on the hacked stand and needs picking up to check the time...half an hour flits by in a flurry of emails with links to ever more puerile ephemera.


Supreme effort soon drags me out of the sinkhole of algorithmic despair and I reward my 'heroism' with a deliberate, aromatic coffee brew.
While waiting for my brew I complete a desultory cycle of furious folderol: rearranging and tidying, weaving unsteadily through 3 rooms. After 2 cycles I sink into the chesterfield (too puffy) then back to the reception chair (Just right) As usual there's a violent but bloodless struggle inside my skull yet outwardly I'm shuffling tchotchkes in an empty room.


Eventually the pot boils and a minor flurry of froth and finesse ensues, my goal is palatability but my choice is the balcony. A vapid sequence I remember from teenhood featuring a leather gloved hand twisting open a golden doorknob...