We'll eat in about 40 minutes, but for now I think I'll just come to my room and swap my contacts for glasses, lace the pair of shoes I polished and re-polished and let sit, maybe remove the small bottles from the upper window frame and let in some more wind and sun. I'll change shirts for sure. Something short sleeved. And my teeth. I need to brush them, oddly, though I'm eating soon. I could turn on some music. There's that thought you get looking at the afternoon time that has a second half consisting of, "What inning could it be in?" The Twilight Zone radio dramas I have been listening to are about a perfect 40-45 minutes. From my choices, in that length of time I could ask a genie for four, yes four, wishes, assess my living flesh life before lured to return as a mannequin, ride a train and meet a siren or time travel to Cliffordville.
It's possible though, we'll soon be eating in 30 minutes.
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