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…