You can wish for anything as long as it's a ball she told me. I'd already asked for a cuddly snowman and a blue hippo. She'd succintly told me they were for babies only and papas could only wish for a ball. I went for the ball. And so my throat welled a little with those strange happy tears that brim in the lower lid of the eye.
I'd never really had those until my daughter came along.
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I watch TV. In fact I stick on the most moronic programmes I can find, with presenters only fit for TV - you know the kind - people way too socially inept and asinine to live a real live. When I was a child I thought the TV was full of small people putting on a play.
Now I'm pretty much convinced.
Anyway, nowadays I find this particular rectangle of digital colour much more soothing than a book or a conversation. There is a reason for this.
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It's about making sleep valid. I've never been a fan of sleep - having pretentiously named it a 'thief of time' in many conversations. Of course, always aware of the fact it may make me seem different.
I do want to be different just like everyone else.
Most days I'd hang on to waking until sleep yanked at my head. Even then I'd snort and blurt to fight it off for some more minutes. Occasionally going to the extreme of washing my face in icy water or holding a glass of water knowing that nodding off would break it.
The TV is part and parcel of it all. If the day is mundane, pointless then sleep doesn't seem so much of a chore. I truly believe that the more useless the day is, the more sleep becomes a respite rather than a waste. Yep - TV is great for vacuuming the day into sleep.
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I like her breasts. There's another thought. When they bulb up a bit and I get a sense of their volume. I can't help but think of them in my hands, moving my palms over them. Lifting them towards the nipple to put into my mouth - to lick, kiss and nibble a little.
It sends the start of an erection to my penis.
Once that's started there's no heading back though. It has to be completed. My top lip fills with a desirous sneer and my cock continues to thicken and imagine the rest.
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The coffee in the morning is too hot, but I have just about five minutes to get to the train, or I'll be late. I can't leave it. It seems obvious, despite being ridiculous, that this amount of coffee is the precise, scientific amount necessary to keep me alive - to avoid dreadful bad luck for the day. I blow jolts off air across the surface of it and take cautious, raspy sips between the breaths of air.
This is one of what seem to be a million musts in my life.
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Me and my reasons - just like those six essential dashes above this line. One of a million musts.
