Let my people go

-Part V-

Phone rings. I pick it up, hear for a while, grab my coat and leave.

It takes me 10 minutes to get where the guy asked me to go. I stand for a while there, with a strange urge to smoke. I don't smoke, but it somehow seem like the right thing to do: to lit a fag, inhale and act like I'm in a fucking movie.

People pass by trying to look busy, or cool, or smart. Temperature has dropped, like, 10 degrees from yesterday and everybody is gettin' their expensive coats out to a hike. Everybody's trying to look parisien.

Ok. Now he's officially late. I'll have a coffee.

Strangely, I feel I could blend in. Be with them. Go shopping. Go do whatever those humans do. But I've got a plane to catch. And my agent is late.

Girly-girl walks a dog. The dog isn't happy. The girl isn't happy. I resist the urge to put them out of their misery. Instead, I give her a grim —halfway to a smirk. She smiles. I point to the chair, leaning my head. She keeps walking. I keep my mind to myself.

Ok. I won't wait no more. I'll stroll around. I'll see what I can do not to stab people in the eyes for being such a lame excuses for human beings.

And I'll have another cup o'coffee.