Thinking of coffee. Second interview. Underwhelming.
Towel in shoulder prepped for shower. Random thoughts jumble in head like passers-by on a high street.
Biting towel. Two minutes left in the clock. Rubbish. Farts here and there. Feel remorse for the chair.
Fuck me. It's still dark. Should I stay or should I go?
No hope to stay. Towel tastes like...
Mayday, mayday. With lemonade in hand.