He was a showman if nothing else, his whole life he had been training for something like this. He kept his composure. Even when some people said "Doesn't he look like the Blue Man." or took videos of him. In the olden days this would have set him off. 

In...

It felt like a snow ball rolling down a hill. Everything just started moving after that. 

The next day there were posters everywhere and leaflets on the desk. George was worried, it seemed like too much stuff. Too much for this party. It was meant to be a simple one...

George wondered if someone who discovered the first antibiotic had this feeling. He was at first ecstatic, he fist pumped silently, trying not to wake his wife. Then he doubted himself. There's no way this is how it was, this is where the Blue Man would end up. Just in...

Where George lived now people could conceal guns without alerting you. When he was younger this didn't bother George, but as he got older it started to bother him. His friends that worked in the city had a gun or something in their car. Then another one of his friend...

He hated when Steven would meet Marc. He'd always say in an annoying way "MARC Love." And sort of point finger guns at him. 

He hated how Steve said it. 

He sometimes would call Steven Steve. Even though he knows it annoys him. He liked doing things like this to...

Other people in the office didn't shave. There was another guy, he didn't much like, Steven, but he always came smooth faced and ready to go. George didn't get in until about 9, this guy always talked about getting in at seven. He'd say things like "Early bird gets the...

George didn't know, but if he was born in another country he'd commute by train. It wouldn't be driving alone for two hours a day. It would be sitting on a train, or a bus. Collectively for the same time, but the time would be filled with a book, or...

He wrote a lot in a cafe. 

In other parts of the world there weren't really spaces like this. You could only come in and eat, or get a coffee. The closest thing you'd see is someone taking a call. Although it was always ambiguous if it was for work...

There weren’t a lot of them on there just a few. But they were there everyday. George liked that. He felt like they were regulars at a pub or a cafe or a collective or something. He imagined them all at a bar like Friends, or another sitcom. 

It was hard...

He started microblogging about his thoughts. On a weird website he'd found from some friends at university.

He thought back then they were strange. Why would you get together and talk about what you wrote. Why would you write at all. 

Now he found himself writing every day. Or almost everyday,...