I just caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection from the vending machine.
No, I wasn't using it. I was walking next to it.
And yes, the same vending machine that once spoke to me. It's next to the Nestle 3000.
Anyway, I look like a ghost.
Pale, drawn, fuzzy outline, kind of haggard-looking and grey - walking the office, looking for eternal rest, that kind of thing.
The fuzzy outline might be because my image was reflected from two panes of glass. Quite why the Mars Bars, Bountys and packets of nuts need to double-glazed I don't know. Presumably, they're insulated at a suitable temperature. They were superimposed over the woeful image of me, staring back at me with bags under the eyes. I looked like a kind of forlorn Robinson Crusoe, whitened by the sun and weather-beaten.
-
"Where is everyone?" I asked Marie, as I wandered back into the office with a tea.
"Well, it's um, it's James's last day so..."
"Ah," I interrupted, saving her embarrassment, "Say no more. They're at the pub!"
"I guess so," she said.
"You didn't feel like going?" I asked.
"No, it's a bit laddy. And anyway, I have stuff I need to fix."
"Fair enough," I said, as if it were.
I sat down and logged on to my computer. You know I'm sure there was a time when I used to get invited to these things.
Presumably that was before I turned into an apparition of a technical author.
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