I approached the front door. The handle looked like the most appropriate thing to turn to get out the door, so I turned the handle and got out the door. Once out the door, there was the additional door to get out without the handle option open to me. Instead, a latch had to be turned clockwise at a 45° angle in order to get out, so I turned the latch at a 45° angle and stepped outside.
Steps were the next obstacle to negotiate and I approached these one at a time, favouring this cautious method over the more ambitious two-step vault method I was sometimes keen on taking. Once upon the pavement, I walked north until the pavement began winding left, at which point I changed course to northwest and then west.
As people passed me, I kept my head down. I approached the traffic lights and pressed the one button available for me to press. It had been three months since leaving the flat, and I wasn’t used to such things as wind, other people, traffic or strange clicking noises. Darling Laura had left the fridge bereft of Hovis, leaving me no choice but to embark on this dastardly voyage to the corner shop to procure a bouncy loaf.
For what is the soul without bread? Our daily victuals are profound nourishers: manna for the heart’s hunger. My being was wasting without my daily loaf. My treatise Epistemological Strategies in the Routines of Isadora Duncan was nearing completion, and this loaf was paramount to its success. Arriving at the shop by means of my feet, I pounced upon the loaf and handed currency to the cashier. I hadn’t washed since January 2008, so I gather the stink was unpleasant, though he was no fine scent himself.
Upon returning I filled the bath with tears and completed my treatise. The world opened up like a pair of functioning legs, and a spiritual rebirth was imminent. The Hovis was mouldy, but Darling Laura picked off the green bits. I invented a system for stopping the world from flooding—two huge water vats the size of skyscrapers to store the seas vertically: