The sidewalk extends for a few more blocks and it is made of brick so those blocks are interesting, blocky blocks, walking with feeling, texture. Angles roll and things move and are not uniform and the breeze is faint and cool and there are clouds but they are light and so the sun can penetrate them. It's nice.
Back inside there is yellow paper taped to the wall beside the bathroom asking someone to see someone about breaking a two dollar bill, if possible. Inside the bathroom there is a bowl that previously held some sort of re-heated lunch soaking in the sink. Paper towels are all around.
Things move on and happen but barely do I participate. Wading and watching, mostly. I do have a Larabar which I love dearly and altogether too much if we're being honest and then a decent apple and spectacularly awful cup of coffee but it was work coffee so I knew what I was signing up for.
Fridays still feel like what they are even when they entirely different, even when the weekend to come will not be a weekend properly, or even a weekend at all, really. Instead there will be work and more work and Saturday and Sunday will be little more than a prelude to Monday and maybe nothing more than an extension thereof, really, nothing more than one long Monday, three days of one day.
Probably the sun will not notice this, however. Probably things in the world and on the world and wholly outside of the world will go on, go on as they do, go on as they must and were always going to, really, regardless of how much proofreading I do or do not attempt in a given period of arbitrarily designated hours.