A Start to the Day, At Most

I'm sitting up early this morning and Stanley is ironing a suit right in front of me.  I've filled an apartment with less overwhelming smells from cooking a 10 pound lasagna.  

He just told me he has a job interview, searing his suit against the living room table.

"Oh yeah?" I said.

"I'm going to be one of those New York tours guides on the double decker buses."

Get us off this bus

Then he sat down and shined his shoes with his own socks.

Get us off this bus

Then he grabbed his headshot, which has been collecting dust on top of the record player, and stared at it for a second, his former self winking at him in the eerie morning light like the Ghost of Christmas Never.

Passenger uprising

Then he spritzed the very last of his cologne onto one of his wrists, walked out the door, and was gone, like a stillbirth seagull into the morning.