Generic Regret – on – Sea

It was late and it didn’t feel late.

A faint glow lit up one side of the hill. Had ‘they’ landed? Was it just a bunch of drunks setting fire to things out of boredom? A sacrifice maybe? One wonders these things when the air is dead of sound and one has a mouth stuffed with dry bagel. A slight frown of concentration, toes wriggling inside trainers, a few spots of rain tapping the top of the skull. And what about the twinkling of the lights across the channel? Surely they weren’t really twinkling? An illusion of twinkle caused by every rain drop and particle between the source of the light and my eyes?

And why is it that cigarettes give me toothache?

No answers materialised.

Only questions, questions. No sooner had one faded to less than a flea fart in the grey matter when another stomped in, chest all puffed up and demanding my complete attention.

My hands shook for no reason. The past three hours had come and gone without any memory of their passing; like so many hours, lost in pointless, abstract thought.

Ha. Balls.

It seemed as though it could easily be early in the morning. But it wasn’t morning. If it were morning there would be things to do, places to go. Instead, stuck with that insufferable time of night (11:22, or 23:22), matters had become serious and in need of urgent attention. The whole world, all of a sudden, appeared on the brink of total collapse. Issues were simply not being discussed. Time was a-wasting where there was no time to waste.

The glow disappeared.

Standing in the cold and tapping trainers in puddles, it was as though time might freeze, the world become lost, unless one answer to one question was revealed.

Instead, I picked my nose.

My nails had grown at what seemed an unreasonable rate in just one week.

Why did that cat always stare at me?

And why did she have to say that she just wanted to be friends?

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