“Rough shape?”
“Yeah. Not rough from overindulging or consuming extracurricular libations though.
Mentally rough.
Tired.
Too much tussling going on in or around the spaces inside the sphere shaped vessel that sits atop my neck and shoulders.”
“Everything ok?”
Not looking sad, confused, or particularly elated, a shrug of his shoulders and slowly moving plumes of steam rising from the cup of coffee in front of him wafted the conversation into oblivion.
“How are the eggs today?”
BLONDE ON BLONDE 