he came into the room wearing his casualities. he was unshaved and unprepared, with a cold take-away coffe cup in his left hand and a plastic bag with an empty lunch box in his right. while subcontiously chewing chewing gum, he sat down.
our eyes exchanges looks, and it was quiet in the room. morning sun-it was 10 am-filled the art-gallery-looking room, making every detail of our faces exposed to one another. "i wish i wore sunnies", i remember thinking. i pulled up a pen and an orange note pad from my bag, and started interviewing him for the second time this year.
Me: your t-shirt is different from last time. you said you always wore the yellow one at interviews.
Him: i spilled my coffe all over it, when i ran towards the metro this morning. i had to buy a new one on my way here.
His voice was dull, as if he'd answered the same question a hundred times before. i watched him idly stearing out the window, and pretended to be wrinting down something very important.
M: so how's your sleep these days? last time you told me you had neither slept well nor dreamt in two months.
H: Yes, I've been thinking a lot about it in general, and finally something happened. i don't know what was the reason for my sudden change in sleeping pattern, but i believe-no, i'm convinced, he corrected himself- using different pyjamas might have helped, which i realise isn't logical, yet the only way it makes sense to me. you see, the first night i used the ones i bought at the place down the street-you know, where that girl started her hiccuping- i dreamt that i met john coltrane. we were sitting at a café in williamsburgh and he insisted on me tasting his coffee, but i didn't want to, because i was vegan in this dream, and he was drinking cappuchino-obviously without soy milk. we started arguing about this, me not tasting his coffee, which was stupid, but necassary, for some reason. he ended up throwing the cappuchino all over me and my t-shirt, -which might've been a prophesy of what was going to happen this morning, i now realise. After saying this he stopped talking for a while. i left him to his thoughts, updating instagram 15 times while waiting. -when i woke up i was convinced i was covered in cappuchino and that i was going to have some rare allergic reaction to the milk, but nothing happened. i was just lying in bed for hours, waiting for, you know, something.
intently, i looked at him, searching for signs of remaining confusion. there was nothing, so we decided to continue the interview over some fruit and juice. we packed up our things, walked down the stairs and around the corner, towards the local grocery store. unfortunatly, it was closed; so we walked back to the too-bright art-gallery-looking room to wrap up the interview, while convincing each other we weren't meant to be eating fruit today anyways.
(Walking to the grocery store, i listened to him elaborating on a statement he made last time i saw him. "i find grape fruits so much more, you know, citrus-y than lemons". somewhat ironically, almost like the revenge of the grapefruits/lemons-i can't determine which one he actually insulted/insulted the most-he was chewing lemon flavored chewing gum, which oddly enough was pink, when he saw the grocery store was closed, and we both realised it was sunday)
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