Workaday

Alone in the backseat of a cab at 11 pm, you watch as the lamp posts go by slowly, slowly. Cruising along unfamiliar highways and sidestreets, you imagine you're on a trip to some exotic place. Some place different, unpredictable, where fourteen-hour workdays and fifteen-minute lunches are unheard of. But you're only going home.

Over and over we begin again.

"Hi.... it's been a while... your freckled smile... has lost its charming glimmer... "- Just Like Henry, Dressy Bessy