In the store, I forget my lines as the guy serving me attempts good-humoured conversation. His words make little sense, so I stand dumfounded by what should be the most straightforward of exchanges. I know exactly where I am, and yet it feels like I’m lost at sea. Memories have become realer than the objects observing my awkward posture as I roll on the heels of my feet, giddy and lightheaded. There’s a clock on the wall with no hands and multiple shelves with nothing on them. Then, there are shelves with plenty on them but no prices. I’m not sure what to make of this. It’s a useless observation not worth repeating, and yet I know I’ll be thinking of it for the rest of the day, like earlier, when I was on the bus coming back from work and couldn’t help but stare at the roadworks as the bus pulled up at a set of traffic lights. The pavement outside the bank was obliterated, and for some reason, I found myself transfixed by what had, until recently, hidden itself from view. It was only a mass of rubble, but the freshly exposed earth affected me deeply. Just rocks and dust, yet I too will one day be reduced to rocks and dust. It felt like future sight. I don’t know if you’ve ever been to this store before. Probably not, although I can’t say for sure. I try picturing what would catch your eye. Closing mine, I lose control of both my mind and body and just like that, I’m spiralling through the air like a leaf tumbling from the uppermost branches of a tree. Caught in a gust of wind, I’m transported to your feet as you splash a puddle on the broken paving slabs near where you grew up. You’re just a kid. Just a fleshy bag of milk teeth and eczema, but without even trying, the rabid glow of your smile splits my skull on even the most crushing of days.