Walked out of the house deeply unconvinced at the idea of getting up today. It was almost raining, occasional circles in the puddles but not enough to clean the street. There was a bus at the busstop. I won't run, I thought, and another one turned up just as the first one pulled away. It smelt powerfully of urine, and the windows were so fogged you couldn't see outside except in odd smeared glimpses. As I sat down I was tapped on the shoulder, despite the fact that the only person sat behind me was a scary beardy staring man, and he was sat over six feet away. I thought about stories. I'd seen someone who looked like my muse last friday, crossing the bridge in the opposite direction, but there had been too much traffic for me to be sure. Good thing if it was; I thought he'd left town. I have a lot on, I need him. As I stepped off the bus, next to the Council Tax Office, I noticed the ground was vibrating, a deep, rolling motion that reminded me of an engine turning over. After six steps it faded, but I was still unnerved as I stood at the crossing, buses seething by like wet walls. I'm wearing a jumper, the really red one. It goes with my hair.
At work, I tried again to drink my Afternoon Tea in the morning, but it just didn't appeal. It's stopped raining.