#33: Sleep

Nathan stretched as far as he could. His feet tucked in beneath the accelerator and his hands slid across the felt ceiling until he heard his back crack. The condensation on the windscreen radiated the yolk-coloured street light, making it look scrambled.

The sound of the garbage truck turning the corner means it is Tuesday. His body has adjusted to the new street, to the quietness of being uptown. The residents don't seem to mind him living among them, if they know he is even there. By the time he 'goes to bed', meaning he's done his wind-down routine of pissing against a tree in the park a few blocks away, and placed the homemade blinds up on all but the windscreen. All he has to do it drive to Montague Street, park, and slide back the seat.

He pulls up the seat and drives back to the park so that he can undo it all and have his car back.

After standing behind the jacaranda and feeling the relief of pissing, Nathan walks around the park. The movement energises him after the cramped night's sleep. His body is still adjusting the shape of the seat, the feel of the air as it creeps in through the tiny gap of the windows, the dull sounds of the street as nearly everything sleeps.