30.July 2015
The clock has fallen on it's face, and can he heard only in the returned early morning darkness. Wash and shave, let the day begin. Thoughts of passed youth, and lost chances. clothe, and open the door as the bell sounds for half past five. There is one man in the street, faceless.ly dragging himself along the pavement wearing one of there now-fashionable American baseball caps . The peak of the cap is there where his face should probably be.
At the bus stop me the woman in her black outfit and white sports shoes approaches. Tired looking today, less bounce in the steps. Watch as she passes, she reaches back into her rucksack and takes something out. Lights up under the archway of the town gate. Daily habits. Maybe she is not smoking, maybe she is just steaming. But she does whatever she does at the name time. Every day now.
The bus driver, a patient man with long hair and a pate. The Station, Anastasia serving on her own, all the customers by memory. She takes time to explain why the café doors need to be closed when it is hot.
Hedgehog and Moustachio, and the brown-haired mom are all there today, talking, discussing drinking tea and coffee. The sun is hardly up today, it promises to be a cloudless day, likely a hot day once the Earth her turned and the sun has really had a chance to work on the still-chilled atmosphere.
The way to the platform is marked by a man with a new' leather laptop bag, it exudes the smelsl of new leather all along the platform..
Judging by the clothes that people are wearing, today will be a really hot day.
How do they know in advance?
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