Sitting in a coffee shop watching people walk by while trying to avoid the searing sun, slanting stiletto rays onto the pavement.
Church bells ring. People start to stream out from the cool sacral interior, squinting when they are greeted by the profane world outside.
Wasps trying to dodge my irritated waving above the slice of ham which still remains of my late breakfast.
And me. Black t-shirt and shorts, looking like one of the many guests surrounding me, who all stare at some smart device, feverishly tapping the screen to strengthen the ephemeral links to their social groups. Me, I am composing this post. I am not like them. I may check my facebook account from time to time but I am not chained to it. Definitely not.
I should tell you about Grayson Louderman whom I left staring intently at his computer screen this morning. I wrote him into existence in Chapter 5 and now he’s been waiting patiently for me to attend to his needs. Not unlike me, who is waiting for the waiter to stop by my table and take my money so that I can go on with my life.
But the waiter waits on the other tables first. I must still not look sufficiently impatient and irate. It’s hard to be impatient in this heat: blink too fast and you break a sweat. So I wait patiently.
But once I am back home I’ll wake Grayson from his state in limbo because there’s a lot going on right now. The story has picked up, the conflict is brewing and the cards are already stacked for a climax.
Wish me well, dear reader!