He admired the herculean efforts of the marathoners from the window of his hotel room, his hand holding back the heavy golden shade for a minute or two, before yawning and going back to bed.
He tried to look at the world with the eyes of a cat.
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His heart spasmed every time he overheard men in conversation in cramped quarters, like a bar or restaurant, using the phrases “moving units” or “price per units” or “number of units,” his eyes promptly glazing over no matter where he found himself as he pictured himself in a grey suit with a conservative yet expensive hat, riding in the back of a sleek black car as it drove over a cliff.
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