I did not have enough money to take a taxi, so I asked my way, once, twice. In the end, I wandered a few hours in the blizzard that smelled of fish, before stopping, stomach shouting caffeine. Near the docks of Liverpool, I met a man who looked as if fascinated vessels sinners. It was pathetic with his childish eyes, a basket of chips lap. The tips of her fingers were red from the cold, barely heated by the warm, thin potatoes that led to his mouth, small mouth shaped o. Me, I was on the other hand, I waited my Ceylon, a Dumas on the table in faux marble. And then he got up, threw his empty tray and entered the cafe. Radio spent a Kinks song, I forget which. He ordered an Irish coffee and went to sit facing the bay. He watched the boats pass, and dockworkers cry, a thin smile stretched his lips chapped by the cold. He gnawed fingernails, ignoring the server who brought him his coffee. When I left, there was still unaffected. I walked past the trash docks, there was his little plastic tray. I looked around, I even looked at if it does not float on the wave of gray Mersey. No. Good. So maybe I invented it all, ultimately.
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