Sleepwalking my way through life: Taking notes



Taking notes

The train chugged lazily along and I shielded my eyes from the sun that filtered through the windows. It was the first good day to occur in a while – all the days running up to the weekend were filled with thunder and rainstorms –and dandelion seeds drifted to and fro in the slight breeze that brought relief from the warm sun. I pulled a tissue out of my pocket and blew my nose in a way not too dissimilar to a clown; the irony of the first nice day in a long while is that I’m too sick to enjoy it. Marie was the same, and the combination of her throat and my nose meant that we both headed home too early for a Saturday.

The beautiful day was spent in the dark cavern of the cinema, watching the new film A Scanner Darkly with its brilliant painted style and amazing story (interrupted by only a few coughs and sneezes) before we headed to Starbucks and grabbed a cup of coffee to clear our heads. And so I found myself on the train home after deciding to part ways, agreeing that neither of us would be much fun in our current states.

The train was very busy with almost every seat, apart from the one beside me, taken. The carriage hummed with the sound of conversation and somewhere in the distant end a baby was crying. I sat back and stretched my legs out, trying my best to enjoy my comfort in spite of my runny nose, and reached into my bag for a pen. I had a new notebook in my bag that I wanted to use for days, and since I had time to myself I decided to try and fill it.

So I looked around and pulled out the small book from my pocket. I looked over the seats and heads of my fellow passengers, and began to write.
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