176. A Day In The Life...

The day starts. It is 06:00. You press “snooze” for a short while longer.

06:09; It goes again... you continue this for a further 27 minutes.

06:36.

You wake up, with realization that nothing has changed. But your hair. It's upright, the same as your genitals. Why did you drink so much last night? Morning wood, through the uncomplicated consumption of alcohol.

You thought it would be fine.

You rouse. Make your way over the clothes, and through the cobwebs in your own head. Eventually, standing over the toilet. You try to think of the Spanish word for this, from your schooling days. It evades you.

Upon finishing, you tip your head over the bath, and under the shower cubicle. You realise that it is not switched on, and pull your head back, pull the drawstring, knock on the switch.
Whilst washing, you think of the complications occurred over the last few months, and indeed, in the same bath. It's going to be one of those days.

Once dried, you notice you need a brush, or that pink comb, upon the mantle, downstairs. A rake by the fingers shall suffice. What's it matter? It's only another day. Nothing will happen today. No-one shall notice. You think twice.

“Nah”.

You trawl your way back into the bedroom. Again, avoiding the clothes. You perch yourself on the end of the bed; your arse's indent in indelibly imprinted upon this part. – fire away a few messages on the internet. No thought in it.

Roll up 6 cigarettes; Drum tobacco, Swan filters and Rizla silver, as is the standard for your part time days.

It's now 07:00. Your late. You should have been out the house no later than ten-to. You needed to get the Tram at this time. You panic.

You are offered a lift. Kevin does so. He drives you to work. You notice the stupid amount of snow littering the roads and pavements. You think that you are glad that you didn't walk to the tram. Half way there, you realise that you have forgot your security pass.

“Fuck”, you think. You eventually shout it out loud, so as to try and draw attention from Kevin.

“What's wrong?”

“I forgot my pass”.

“Can you still get in?”

“Yeah, I'll be fine, just gotta wait for someone I know”.

Alice sees you, as you walk past the gates. You've known her for about a year. You made friends through a friend. All at work. Nothing untoward. She shouts at you, through the railings.
You have your MP3 player on – Listening to your own music. A few weeks ago, you abandoned your old persona. You were bored with him. Came upon a fun name that you thought would raise intrigue. It's just a shame that the music isn't the same. Whilst you are advancing, it's not enough to draw any kind of interest.

“What?” You shout.

All you hear is something. Like a distant mumbling. You still don't catch it, and you laugh, confused. If it wasn't for your left ear being partially deaf, or the fact that you are 50 foot away, you may have heard her. You still feign politeness, and say goodbye.

Standing outside the railings, you continue with the music. You think it isn't all that bad, but still not as good as it could be. You consider what could be done, whilst lighting a cigarette.
You fall in and out of what you are thinking. The cold snaps at your heels. You wonder what is nagging at you. You look for Helene  She's usually around at this time of day – She will let you in. It's now around 07:40. You begin at eight.

Making your way toward the gates, you think that maybe something isn't right. You remember that you don't have your card, and you shall have to wait. Your slipping on the ice. After only seconds of waiting, Abdul shows up and lets you in.
He lets you through all the doors.

“You going to explain this to somebody?”

“Yeah, yeah”.

You won't.

Get up to your floor, and you see Ryan on the floor. You tell him of your creative input of the last two days; Sunday and Monday – you've hand-crafted 5 tracks over these two days. Your impressed with yourself, as he should be.
You ask him what's going on, and he explains about the management wanting to sit with him. You sympathise, but explain that all will be fine. Your older than him, and more world wise, but he is your superior. As work has not officially began, you ask him if he would like to listen to the music that you have done.

“Yeah, I were listening to Black Sabbath, earlier”

You sit there, in whimsical amusement. You wonder how he knows Black Sabbath. He's a fan of UK Reggae.

He remembers - “No, it was Sabbath Latin – I like that”
“Well, I've done a redux of that”.

You realise that he won't know what that means. You just plug him into the ear phones, and let it rip. You explain that some of it isn't your greatest.
Whether through friendship, or just to stay on your good side, he compliments your music.

“I'm not just saying this, but you have got better”, precedes “There's SINGING on this one?!”

You laugh. Think of making an insidious remark, but think better of it. He's already told you in the past that he doesn't know what to say, with regards to troubles at home. You know he tries his best. Unfortunately, it doesn't work for you. Your friendship has been dwindling for some time. Sea rápido o esté muerto.

Something is mentioned in the ilk of “roll on the weekend”. Your still trying to wake up. You didn't wash this morning, didn't feel up to doing it, and, if truth be told, your washed your hair, so it was washed, nonetheless.

You make a throw-away comment; “Fuck that, roll on 16 days – Zurich!”.

A voice appears from your left hand side.

“Zurich?”

It's Helene  You look at her, her face a porcelain body disappearing behind a column of what you've always thought to be; asbestos. That columns' always been in your way.

“Yeah, it's the end of this month”, you continue exchanging information between one another, seemingly like curve-balls, around the column.

“Oh, I didn't think that it was so soon?”

“Yes”.

The last word kills the conversation dead. You scramble in your head to continue the conversation, but, as ever, your mind is dry. As is your throat. You can't go on.

Taking a look at the clock, it's now 07:55; Alan should be in soon – he's working the same shift as you. Not technically the same shift – you finish somewhat earlier than he, as you have to be home early to tend to the ensuing confusion there. No sooner had you thought this, he's there.
Exchanging pleasantries, you decide to get yourself in for work, there's a somewhat under-awing login system to contend with, and as you serve a dual purpose at work, you need to spend half of the day on emails for one department, and the other half on another.

You trawl through the emails, and have a few jokes with Alan. There's something about him that you can't quite put your finger on. You were told by Helene a few weeks back (it may have even been months, but you decide to forget), that she asked him for your number. She told you that he said that he didn't have it, and this left you reeling.
You knew for a fact that he had the information back in November – he called you and text you on the day. Ryan gave him your number. You were out with Sarah. A friend of a few months, but under awe of, and a person that you enjoyed the company of.
Previous conversations had led you to believe that Helene and Alan had had sex together, though this could never be proven. You always thought that he was being protective of her, for no apparent reason. Either that, or the green eyed eyed monster setted in, and pride was damaged when she asked him for it. Upon learning it, you realised that there was no actual way of finding out. You would never ask. It's not your business.