I have half an hour to waste and I need to piss. I stand alone at the urinal expecting the door to swing open - it doesn’t. I have twenty-five minutes to waste and I’m in the supermarket café. I sit and watch people sat in rags and tatty narratives. I watch small buckets of caffeine being sipped and headless mirth rising into clouds of noise. I have twenty minutes to waste. I choose a cake, ‘the moist one in the corner.’ I pay. I collapse onto her cheap bed of white ceramic. I take all of her every last crumb. She is spent. I am ruined. And I have another ten minutes to waste.