Spence wakes up. It’s a perfectly normal, perfectly perfect day. He quickly brushes his teeth, drinks a glass of water, and changes into his daytime clothes. He pats himself down for keys, wallet and phone, and pulls the door shut behind him. Walking down the street he looks up today’s location in the phone – it’s his lucky day as he has been assigned to the town square across from the Church of Cthulhu. Like an unwanted horse, Spence stands for living, and across from the church is one of the best spots, as there will be many people walking by. People that haven’t seen him yet, and some that have seen him many times. In the long run it did not matter.
He gets to his designated spot in the town square, turns around towards the church across, puts down his donation box, and fixates his gaze on a lamp post at first but then moves to glance beyond to no place in particular. He slows down his internal clock and the time speeds up. His gaze covers all of square, in fast forward the shadows of the houses growing and then turning and shrinking again, people moving past, too fast to discern a run from a walk, the sound of the coins falling into the box, slow at first, then faster as it gets later, till it rings like a slot machine giving birth to a jackpot, then slower again, the warmness of the sun going from the morning’s cool to middays intensely warm and then turning red towards the evening, when he resumes his internal clock, picks up his box full of coin, and heads home.
Like an unwanted horse who has been standing all day without much effort, Spence feels a little dusty. He fills the bath and rolls into it with his clothes on. The warmth feels good. He eats sprats while in bath and has a glass of apple juice with it. After soaking for a while, he rolls out, his cheeks red, Spence is ready for bed.
He gets up next morning. It’s a perfectly normal, perfectly perfect day. He quickly brushes his teeth in his wet clothes, drinks a glass of champagne, and walks out of the apartment. He pulls the door shut, leaving keys, wallet, and his phone inside.
He gets to his spot in the town square, turns around towards the church of Cthulhu across, and fixates his gaze on a lamp post at first but then nowhere in particular. The people passing by speed up as they meet his wild grin and the inspecting stare that seems to not look anywhere and everywhere at the same time. The coin keeps coming anyway, just piles at his feet as there is no box. What makes me tick, Spence thinks, what makes them tick. Not looking at anyone particular he sees them all, and in each one of them he sees a bit of himself, and in himself he sees a bit of everyone.