Copper Moon, day five week thirty three two thousand and fifteen

6'March 2015

awake, it is four. Take off that mask, turn off the machine, go to the bathroom.

at five, turn off that clock, go to the bathroom and enjoy a shower. The water is too hot and then too cold, varies about its ideal temperature. Clothes, all fresh and new.

Nice.

Mail on the mobile, set the clock. The ticking sound all night was a cheap quartz clock, very noisy.

The wife is up, goes back to bed again. 

Leave the house, walk down the street. It is cold underfoot.

Dolores walks ahead, very slowly, Towards the bus atop.

There is no hurry today. No, none. The moon is full, or nearly full, shining the its way through the clouds. There is a woman in the bus stop shelter, smoking. Dolores looks into the shelter, sees her, and then scuttles off to a nearby park bench that she may have to herself.

The bus driver has a crowd to deal with today , yet again.

             

        There is no PT smoker at the station, but the woman with the bright red hair is there. A brilliant, metallic red hi colour, she must be in her fifties, colouring like a cockadoodle doo.

She smokes outside the square as well. In defiance to the rules, but only just outside, perhaps so that she can excuse herself by saying that this was an accident.

Anastasia serving, no orders needed, The coffee just appears on the counter. She knows many of the regulars now...

Mustache! and Hedgehog are chatting. Attheir table.

The day is starting quietly. 

The copper moon is low over the landscape of bare trees moving quickly past the window.