This is what I've been waiting for. A Monday morning on a park bench, watching people in suits and overcoats walking past on their way to work. And me, not. They don't notice me. For them, I don't exist. This isn't even my town. I don't know the streets, their smells and shortcuts. But that makes it even better. Here I am, as far away from work as I could be, with nothing here to remind me of that life I've already almost forgotten. Today the whole day's my own. I am wasting nothing, sitting here on this park bench.