Tuesday morning

Bill awoke on a particularly insignificant Tuesday, feeling as though it were Monday. He lay in his bed, staring blankly at the white ceiling above him, thinking about what would happen if he were just to hide under his covers instead of going through his day. Bill then wondered if anyone would notice him. “Probably only the bus driver” Bill concluded. After 12 minutes of Bill avoiding the simple fact that he needed to get up, he lazily slumped out of bed, and half walked-half shuffled to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Bill brushed his teeth for exactly 2 minutes and 36 seconds. He then spat in his sink and rinsed it out with cold water. Bill normally gargled with cold water, but he liked the way his new toothpaste tasted in his mouth, so he left it there.

Bill walked slowly down the hall and wondered if he had any Froot Loops left in the box.  He proceeded to his counter, and took out a purple bowl, poured his Froot Loops into the previously mentioned bowl, got out a small spoon, and sat down. He then ate his cereal in complete silence, apart from the slow crunching sound that his cereal made as he ate it.

Bill then proceeded to his room, and picked out a blue shirt. He then proceeded to put on his blue shirt, followed by his favourite pair of slightly worn carpenter’s jeans, and an “El Loco’s Bar & Grill” hat. Bill then exited his apartment, walking slowly down the metal stairs so they wouldn’t make that empty clanging sound. That sound always made Bill feel hopeless, as though there was nothing left to live for. On the second last stair, Bill heard someone coming from upstairs, clearly not concerned about the sound of the stairs. As a feeling of hopelessness washed over him, he opened a heavily used silver hip flask, and took a particularly long swig of particularly strong Glenfiddich malt scotch.