One Last Sunday

“Well, you know time is a flat circle so we’re bound to miss this train over-and-over for eternity.” I told my classmate after we’d stopped running for the Skytrain that was gathering speed out of the station. He said nothing. “It’s a paraphilic love map.” I stated as my friend and I looked down at a pile of vomit outside the front door of the liquor store we’d just exited. He shook his head. “I don’t sleep, I just dream.” I said to the neighbourhood cat as I walked to the corner store to get potato chips at 1:00 in the morning. It slunk into the shadows. No one was getting my True Detective references and that was fine with me.