Most things would arrive in two days. Crazy he thought, how the cafe needed constant influx of supplies. Otherwise the place couldn't run.

Kind of like his own body. He had to keep breathing. Oxygen. Every breath. Didn't matter how many breaths he had taken in his life before. If he didn't take his next breath he'd be a goner.

Why'd things have to be that way? Why couldn't things just stay still? Not need maintenance and resources.

The yelling shook him up a bit. He went for a drive after work. Smoking. Listening to music. He drove a while until he was close enough to 

Westcity

that he decided he'd get a drink there.

It was an actual city. Not anything big like Chicago or New York, but there was still a skyline. Bars cafes and restuarants. Interesting people. Artists. He could use a bit of that in his life. Nothing like that back in 

town

. Just bitches like 

Imogen Howe

.