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He wakes up after significant terrible dreams that involved terrible unnameable acts. Then he goes downstairs to get some breakfast but the fridge is empty. This is surreal. It was full when he went to bed. He has some coffee granules and makes some coffee. He is confused about the empty fridge. He watches some anime. Attack on Titan is still insane. He goes on the internet and watches various people masturbate which seems to be his new hobby. He pretends it is for research for some novel or other that he is yet to write and it makes him feel less guilty. He gets into work in the afternoon and no one cares. He talks to colleagues and they all complain to one another about things they dislike about their particular part of their particular job in this particular organisation. It is like everywhere else in this regard. He wishes for a pay rise. He writes a rough script for a podcast which is a combination of Welcome to Night Vale and Alistair Cooke’s Letter from America. It is a mediocre version of either. It is a mediocre version of both. It is not very good. He plays cards. He gets caught in the rain. His clothes are soaked but his camera remains dry. He has a glass of wine and he reads and he talks to his girlfriend and then he drifts off into a worried sleep.

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