Peter sat with his back against the wall. The food court was dull at this time of the morning. The usual smattering of old people taking in their twilight years.
He thinks for when twilight actually happens. He thinks it is after sunset, which, for these people, is truly a sad thought.
He reminds himself that it is mid to late afternoon for him and rather than it being a long summer’s day, the way his life is turning out, it is a cold dull winter afternoon and the sun will set sooner than he wants.
There is a feeling, like an itch that can’t be scratched, lurking somewhere deep inside. He doesn’t have words to even describe it other than certain knowledge that the day is ending and the night will bring terror.
The young girl, no older than Matilda, but pregnant, brings over his coffee and donut. There is a sly smile declaring she knows all about the cycle of life. She carries it inside her and recognises in him the signs of how it ends.
He watches her turn and walk back to her little pathetic job standing behind the coffee machine. He is more than angry. Today is his birthday, and this is what he has become. A middle-aged man getting divorced and neither of his children want anything to do with him. Happy fuckin’ birthday, he thinks to himself as he bites into the chocolate donut.