Bit rich, that. Bit rich. Coming from me. Coming from me. You're doing that thing with your jaw again. Grinding. Like you’re trying to chew the silence into something… Palatable. Synthetic leather boots squeaking on the linoleum. It's the loudest sound in the room. Honestly? It's deafening. You asked for a light, but I think you just wanted to see if my hands would shake. …They didn't… And it's a Sodium Overbite, under streetlamp number nine. You look like a ghost that's forgotten who to haunt. Generic brand mystery. Spilled on the front of your top. Bit rich, that. Coming from me. Now you're reciting lines from a film I haven't seen, and I suspect… neither have you. Just saw the trailer while waiting for a bus. Right? Don't give me the "doe eyes". It doesn't work with the vinegar breath. And that phone case. Glitter. Really? In this economy? Bit rich, that. Coming from me. Considering I've been staring at the pattern on the carpet for… what feels like three fiscal years. But you… you're trying to spark a revolution with a battery that leaked in 2024. And I'm supposed to be impressed? I'm supposed to… nod? Actually, I saw you earlier. By the vending machine. Fighting with a packet of crisps. You lost. It was… humid. Or whatever. Bit rich, that. Bit rich. Coming from me. I wanted to help. But my hands were sticky. From the… Never mind. Forget I said that. Just… stop checking the mirror! It's not changing! Yeah. Mind the gap. Or fall in. Bit rich, that. Bit rich. Coming from me. Coming from me. I'm going to bed.
