Stealing from Tomorrow

Irish embassy. Isn’t it always the spot? Marina and Lindsay today, after morning pitches with publishers. Good input and excitement at the possibilities for 2020. All around. Need that manuscript.  Need to spend the spare time writing.  The runway is clear.  Pourquoi pas.

Night of indulgence last night, the Rex has been a solid location of choice, the handoff at the bar after tacos, annoyance the New Orleans guy did not live up to hope, but still playing the ex-lover is dead from the tentet on a loop.

“Here’s to no more Mike” say the workgroup beside. A motley crew.  Endings and beginnings.  The white haired guy alone at the table with his pint, until the sequinned dress arrives.  From a distance it could be you.  Future you.  Past you is in these walls as well.  En route to Antarctica, Mombasa, etc.  Crossroads.  The fuel of Guinness to drive you forward.

Remember this day as the one you knew for sure what you needed to do.  (Which may not be to take advice from the Attraction Doctor....)