He had stood outside the office building for almost twenty
minutes. In another fifteen, he was due to walk in and have a job interview his
father had arranged, one he was supposedly already going to ‘ace’. But deep
down, he wanted to run across the road to the bar opposite, which was rather
rowdy sounding for this time of day.
If he entered the office building, he’d meet with Frederica,
her suit neatly pressed, her bun severe. She would interview him, and it would
eventually follow on that their marriage would be long, their surroundings comfortable,
and both of them would be happy, in a way, with their lives.
If he ran into the bar, he’d be greeted by the sight of Clementine
doing shots using just her mouth while walking on her hands and knees along the
bar. From that moment on, his life would be chaotic, varied and above all else
fun, until the two of them would die when their tandem parachute failed to open
and they slammed into the Peruvian desert.
But instead, he stood there, indecisively, for long enough
that Paloma would crash into him on her scooter, and lead him down another path…
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