There was a formica table and a counter beneath some cupboards within which rested a bottle of Jägermeister and three zig-zagged martini glasses beside a jar of olives. Needed a toothpick. The tap was running in order to fill a glass of water. When ice was dropped in it crackled and after three deep breaths the temperature was subdued. A truck full of odds and ends swept up and loaded drove by with one broken headlight and a sign reading Christies on the door. I was paying attention attentively. School's different when you're older, lots of things are. People with families, responsibilities, they're lucky. I tripped on my boots and spilt my glass on the floor as my shoulder collided with a shelf containing a variety of books concerning psychology and literature. I'd read them awhile back. They hit the floor too and I grabbed a pillow to mop up the stain, then rest. Odd noise outside, sounded like the opening pitch of an orchestra but was just the snowplow's siren; even the snowplows sounded symphonic. Confusion was reigning so I laid my head on the pillow to remain alert and began reading Hawthorne's Disengaged Dismemberment before falling asleep. Woke up and thought I was sweating.