October 3, 2011 in T
The tremor transmitted up from the ground through the sturdy wooden chair to Casey’s warm thighs and buttocks roused him from the dead-end contemplation of a conversation with Winona that will never happen. A graceless stab of his hand silenced the drone and extinguished the phosphor light of the late news update discussion panel show thing he had been looking at without really watching and certainly without listening. He had moved too quickly and failed to divine what they had been talking about so he could pretend to himself he had been paying attention instead of dwelling on some unrealised opportunity and thus avoid the self-recrimination of what was a sensible bedtime on a week night for an adult with a nine-to-five desk job.
As the rhythm of railway bogies rattling across expansion joints started its crescendo Casey lifted his great frame upright and steered it down the hallway toward an ironic bedroom scene where nothing more climactic than a change of clothes would or had ever happened. His gaze passed over the sideboard: his wallet, house keys, car keys, portable media player which was now five years old and unable to support the latest audio file formats. It didn’t matter because he could listen to music sufficiently well in the old formats and surely the determining factor was the speaker in the equally outmoded earphones plugged into the superseded electronic gadget. It wasn’t even an issue because he didn’t love the music rather than the memories of better days it evoked and he didn’t need high fidelity equipment to achieve that when he could still be halted on his track by a tinny dress shop monophonic speaker leaking ‘Give Me a Reason to Love You’ by Portishead into an echoey mall arcade.
“I just want to be a woman” ran through his head as the hem of his nightshirt dropped to his ankles and he smiled briefly at the pyjama gender dichotomy of nightdresses cut to essentially the same pattern before his mind wandered onto the track of how he came to be on the verge of negotiating his way into the bed linen when he couldn’t recall ducking through the doorway or the freight train passing out of earshot.