A day

An eventful day perhaps. An early morning quarrel of decayed glances and worried tears. An afternoon of busyness and numbed denial but Les Savy Fav on the jukebox. An evening of casual beers among colleagues and then lonesome monging at home. A delivery. I write this awaiting friends and television but they must be on the last bus home.

A man comes in every day and tells of a late night on the beer. “I was up till five and then up for a ten o’clock lecture. I feel shit man. Pint of Grolsch please. We finished about two crates between the three of us last night.”

He says this. He’s about forty, forty five but looks older. He drinks and smokes daily. I’m reliably told he has a family to support whom he neglects.

Can I judge this man? Yes, I think so. But what would my judgement achieve? I don’t approve of his behaviour, but I am young, I could find myself in his position.