One quarter of an hour to half past six in the morning and it's just me and a shitty romance novel. Aching fatigued mind glancing over too many pages of middle-aged homemaker escapism. Freshly returned from first excursion to the outside world in several rotations of Earth I make plans to make it several more rotations until the next. I'm no claustrophobe. Too many servings of boiled semolina dough metabolizing in my digestive tract purveyed levels of energy my rapidly decreasing mass hasn't had for months leading to particularly altitudinous sense of primordial malevolence making normal gait a perfectly postured animal saunter and limbs feel lithe despite one hundred thirteen million three hundred ninety eight thousand ninety two point five milligram frame. That is to say I'm feeling tough. Driving at a speed reckless by even James Dean's incorporeal standards I think those at my destination fortunate I'm sans Jack Daniels. Ambling in from a side entrance concurrent with another patron from a front entrance I muster an aura unfriendly as is possible without a darker skin tone or firearms. The male, naively unaware of his status as omega quickens his pace to the counter but my entrance was closer, rendering me the next in line by default and without that fucktarded half run. Finally realizing his status in our temporary pack I prepare to order but the infection currently inhabiting my maxillary and ethmoid sinus cavities imparts a nasal gargle to my vocal emissions which the omega quickly utilizes to order over me before throat can be cleared. A little closer to half past six in the morning. Ahem.
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