"It’s like um…"
His conversation is heard from everywhere in the café. Outside, the pebble beach is wet. The bench he sits on is wet. He takes something from the bag on the table and bites it from his palm.
"…it might have been around October, probably October time. No, that’s all wrong. Ha, how silly of me to forget. No, it was November, definitely, yeah because the point is that the weather was cold, so cold. Ha, everyone always says that, like they weren’t expecting winter to come back around again, "Oh it’s so cold isn’t it." So… it was November, maybe the fourth or something like that… lets not dwell on that: not important… But the beginning of November, and cold like, shit. I dunno’, it was cold enough that we could be sure the earth must have been getting her final laugh, really shaking us up for global warming. ‘Cos, she knows that we’re fibbing, soothing our conscience, when we say we care about her. It was killer cold."
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