8AM, London, the streets are crowded with the most useful portion of the populace. The sun has been up, but the hazy fog over the city doesn’t dare let any light through to the depressing Monday morning occurring below it so that there is no chance a literal brightening of the day could brighten the day of these people.
A fine man in a fine suit sits at a fine table drinking rather fine tea, he looks over to his partner, “James, do you ever question the sentience of clouds?”
His partner, also clad in a grey suit, looks at him with an exasperated expression, “What the fuck are you talking about Arthur? And why are we here, of all places?”
“Have we been here before, James?”
“No, Arthur, we haven’t, so I really have no idea what we’re doing here.”
“James, have you considered that because we have an infinite number of possibilities laid before us that we should, obviously, take them? Then you should question me when I take you somewhere we have been, not when we are somewhere new.”
James pondered this over his coffee as he looked about. The street was busy and bustling as well as every business on it. The shop they were at had taken much too long to prepare just two drinks, but the two men hardly noticed, they were on a different plane altogether from the impatient mass of people crowding the shop and spilling out onto the street.
“Hey, do you know who that lady is? The exhibitionist who always shows up in my room today.”
“James, I thought you already established that she was wearing slacks.”
“Hey, don’t ruin my fantasy, ok, it’s fine for me to imagine the hot blonde who visits me when I snap out of my coma is only wearing red glasses, stilettos, and a trench coat.”
“Ok then, James, what if I told you that the hot blonde exhibitionist who visits you every today is my sister, Caroline? And that I invited her to this shop to hear her reason for attacking us so consistently?”
“If you told me that I’d have no choice but to ask you for her number” replied James.
“You really are a buffoon, James,” Arthur said, burying his forehead into his palm. Arthur sighed and then looked up, “Ah, here she is now.”
Caroline sat down at the table, and squinted at them from a heavily bandaged face. “Hey Arthur, do you know where my glasses are? I lost them earlier this morning to some douchebag.”
James pulled a handful of red plastic shards out of his pocket and placed them on the table, “You know, this might be a bad time, but can I get your phone number?”
