He was sitting in one of his favorite bars somewhere over Iowa or some other state he never planned to visit. This bar was terrific because they more than insisted on the guests staying seated. He also liked that the soda water was always fizzy.
It was a mid-afternoon cross country flight. The only chatter he heard while . . .
Getting to the airport was easy. Elevator to sidewalk. Sidewalk to subway. Subway to airplane. It was a dance and he knew all the steps through repetition. He waltzed through his preferred security checkpoint and made it to the assigned gate in record time.
He preferred a window seat if it was a short flight, like today, . . .
He barely survived the trip home due to the obscene temperature outside. Walking in, he turned on the kitchen light to a loud pop and a flash. Darkness. Letting out a loud sigh he walked right back to the elevator. He checked the temperature again-- negative twenty. When the doors opened on the first floor he was wrapped up, . . .
The paper struck the door like it did every morning and he slipped his loafers on to go fetch it. After a quick glance, he set the news down on the counter. He dropped two pieces of bread into the toaster and then went to turn the shower on.
The fancy striped pajamas he was wearing made him feel slightly dressed up and he . . .
Walking through the revolving door he dragged his feet to remove the snow. It was coming down a bit too hard to finish his pipe so his walk had been cut short. He waved at the doorman and took the elevator in the opposite direction of the falling snow.
He was a touch out of sorts. The week had drifted by without much . . .