Memoir - Week 16
When I met Erin my job had entailed
shift-work, which proved to be a novelty for a while. Like exiting the building
lift to greet a brand new day on the way home at 7.30am, or thereabouts, while
corporate-dressed figures with long faces stepped into the same lift only to
begin their working day. I’d dawdle off amongst the influx of public service
drones. I’d tap dance down the building entrance stairs and along the brick
pathway of the building grounds and out into the streets I’d go, rotating my
torso this way and that as I past the thicket of hurried individuals. I’d sit
down at a nearby café. I’d sip a hot coffee. I’d settle comfortably and meld
into my chair as if melting cheese over piping hot bread. Ahhh…I’m not part of
this, the madness, the predictability, the pessimism and sense of resignation –
I can go home now, do a couple of things for myself. It felt like someone
spiritually high up there had bestowed upon me an exemption from regular life
down here.
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