Five Minutes


Thinking of coffee. Second interview. Underwhelming.

Towel in shoulder prepped for shower. Random thoughts jumble in head like passers-by on a high street.


Biting towel. Two minutes left in the clock. Rubbish. Farts here and there. Feel remorse for the chair.


Fuck me. It's still dark. Should I stay or should I go?

No hope to stay. Towel tastes like...


Mayday, mayday. With lemonade in hand.

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