Chapters (42)
- Cover
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-one
- Chapter Twenty-two
- Chapter Twenty-three
- Chapter Twenty-four
- Chapter Twenty-five
- Chapter Twenty-six
- Chapter Twenty-seven
- Chapter Twenty-eight
- Chapter Twenty-nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-one
- Chapter Thirty-two
- Chapter Thirty-three
- Chapter Thirty-four
- Chapter Thirty-five
- Chapter Thirty-six
- 1
And maybe if he felt together enough, a call to Clarissa.
He didn’t feel together enough, realised he had eaten nothing, and what he did have in his stomach was now in a gutter downtown. He went into the kitchen, made some toast and a cup of tea, but could find no marmalade, so just settled for hot toast and melted butter, and a cup of tea. Comfort food at its finest.
He took it back to his room and devoured it while watching a woman having her hair curled with a brush that heated and had an option to blow hot air at the same time. He had the sound down but enjoyed the company of inanity as opposed to insanity. He wondered why there was only one letter difference in the two polar opposite words. That must have caused some errors in the past with the slip of a finger.
This man is inane.
Would let you off the hook far better than the pronouncement –
This man is insane.
Big difference. A life could be changed by that. And with that thought, inanely rolling around his insanely fuzzing brain, he drifted for a couple of hours into the sleep of the fortunate.
Dreamless.
He woke, two hours later, and watched the shopping channel with the joy of brain removed from thought.
A lipstick that stayed on through whatever you did to it, then a tray of sparkling gems was rotating under the bright studio lights to make them twinkle.
Twinkle, twinkle little star how I love you what you are. No, those aren’t the right words. He couldn’t remember and turned off the television.
The remote felt uncomfortable in his hand, he had pressed the off button with an incorrect feeling that remained in his fingers. He switched it back on in an attempt to get the right feeling and turned it off again, keeping a hold on the button, hoping the feeling would change and result in a comforting feeling that would enable him to release, but he couldn’t feel the comfort and his finger squirmed on the remote; he started to sweat and forced the button down to turn it off. The feeling crawled through his body, spurring a growing mental discomfort.