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Sushi; that's what my ex life called me; cold fish.

"What's new?" The voice in my head blurts out.
"You trying to be funny?"

I can't get no sleep.

It's all fine until you're sitting up against the headboard, on a messed up bed with your half read book open pages to the floor, and you're newly wife curled up, back towards you. Your eyes feel glass-papered red and your fifth glass of cheap red wine's starting to burn a hole in yer gut while the cat's on the dressing table stool, looking at you like the idiot you are.

I might as well get up now; put on some dry clothes and get ready for the early shift, I tell myself.

At this time in the morning it doesn't take long for this part of town to change. Last night's rain is misting off the road and pavements. The lights all quietly doused hours ago as the sky and all it covers turns steadily from iron dull, to pale grey, like a rough damp blanket as it dries out. There's more traffic now, but it's going slower, and it feels like people heading out for the day , instead of desperately racing against the dawn to get home before the day makes it into light.

Jet-lag -What a fucken bitch!

A serial comma, and that my friends, is an Oxford Comma.

Welcome to the first of Simon Le Blog

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