He was looking for something, but he wasn’t sure what. Correction: It was fulfillment, obviously, but for now that lofty goal would come in the form of a spiced espresso drink from a place he’d never been before. The metallic light fixtures were off-putting, he felt, and the design magazines centered on the window sills overlooking the park seemed forced.
Still, it was someplace new. He could use that these days.
He’d been doing a lot of thinking.
Or, rather, he’d been doing a lot of being silent. He certainly looked like he was thinking. His brain felt more like a white noise meets radio static meets sci-fi transistor to talk to outer space. There was always something going on, but none of it made any sense. And none of it was important. He might as well have just gone to work anyway.
Why did he tell Sara he wanted to be on his own?
He thought about the afternoon. There is a scene in a movie he likes where the main character divides time into units: One unit for pool, two units for television. This strategy presumes he has masculine interests. Maybe he should engage in a masculine pursuit this afternoon. Staring stupidly at the green just outside was doing him no good.
He’d play basketball. Stop feeling sorry for himself. Change his career. New house. Why not?
He wasn’t sure when he started disappointing himself.
Cincinnati?