Con, then front

You know what I mean? It’s like when you’re waiting for a train and you see some mad bloke come up to you, all of a twitch, with that desperation for eye-contact that clinically sane people don’t radiate. He’s glaring at you, edging his way from the periphery of your vision. And then you recap - the past five minutes are far from clear. You were in some kind of reverie, tuned in to the headspace after the “we” of the office. Were you throwing your arms in absent –minded punctuation marks to the beats lodged in your ear? Were you chanting the tasks waiting to be tackled that evening, as you mentally wiped out one to-do list and replaced it with another? Perhaps that guy was just pulling the face everyone pulls when they’ve met some mad bloke on the platform.

Moutain - Long Red from Donuts