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|From my pinterest|
Jim shifts his head in his arms. His head pounding and the grime between his eyelids gluing them shut. He hears the sound of feet shuffling over the crinkly linoleum floor and makes an effort to grate the sleep out of his eyes. As one lid reluctantly opens, he sees an older woman in a black apron waddling over. She drops a hot cup of coffee on his table. It sloshes in and over the yellowing mug.
Drink this and get outta here.
As his other eyelid cracks open, he glances at his watch. 8.17am. Early. He tries to rest his head on his arms again, but instead his head jolts upwards. 'Fuck!' The spilt coffee, that had turned ice cold on the table, seeped into his sleeve. He grimaced and the old woman looked at him reproachfully. Jim starts to suck down the coffee, his face puckering with each sip. It's the worst coffee he's ever tasted but the old woman scares him so down it goes.
When the cup is half empty, the coffee half-drunk, Jim sits back in his chair, the last of the sleep slowly falling out of his eyes. He checks his watch again. 8.35am. A few people begin to walk past the dingy cafe and the smell of stale oil wafts over as the fryers begin to bubble and spit. Jim needs to get outta there. He drains the coffee, leaves a few dollars on the table, and bolts.
He replaces the cold metal chair of the cafe with a cold wooden bench on Murray Street. He leans his head back and closes his eyes. The pounding between his ears doesn't stop but he begins to feel the caffeine kick in. His brains loses a little of the static that's been engulfing it.
A bell begins to toll, and suddenly, the cityscape changes. Within the space of a few seconds, the shops lining the streets have opened their doors. Music blares out into the street and people appear from nowhere. The escalators coming up out of the train become flooded with people, and Jim looks at his watch. 9.03am. Late.