Antibiotic.

I cough, my chest grumbles. Actually, like an afterthought. Obviously, the infection is not quite ready to loosen. Like the pig, I should have had my antibiotics.

Beautiful day in Glasgow. I have nothing to do but collect some jeans from the sewing shop. Then I'm going on a tea binge here in the flat. Later, a poker game to mark my flatmates birthday.

The other night I dreamed that the universe had been completely consumed by a cataclysmic fire. Nothing was left. I now existed as bright embers, an indefinite amount of them, moving through the void toward a mirage. It was my street, the street I grew up on, suspended in space. Like a memorial.

How bout that.