
I get to work. I sit at a desk. I work through lunch. Outside the great ten foot windows, it’s light, clouds dance, the De Beers’ chairman’s helitaxi winds up on the next rooftop and wap-wap-waps him back to his estate over us city-bound scurriers. It gets dark, early. It’s night. I finish work, late, again. Homeward.
The snow is still heavy around our home, deep and crisp and deadly, patches like teflon and glass, spots where idiots have tried to wash it away with water. The street-light outside our house is broken. Inside, it’s cold and dark. The boiler’s broken. I huddle up to the lamp for warmth and wait for morning.
Leave a Reply